


Power Play

by tm_writes



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Hockey Player Sandor, Ned is the Coach, Romance, Smut, Stark Family Dynamics, Successful Sansa, hockey players, just for fun, modernau
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 262,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22141216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tm_writes/pseuds/tm_writes
Summary: Sansa Stark is a beauty influencer on YouTube, who comes home to Winterfell when she receives some devastating news.Sandor Clegane is a hockey player just traded to the Wintertown Wolves.They come from two totally different worlds and Sansa has sworn to never date, let alone fall in love with a hockey player.What happens when their worlds collide?
Relationships: Harold Hardyng/Sansa Stark (past), Sandor Clegane & Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 2432
Kudos: 1210





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

_ Sansa _

Sansa heard her phone chime, again, for what she guessed was the tenth time. She'd been on the road, driving back home, driving back to Winterfell. And for three days, she'd had to deal with her boyfriend Harry and his relentless complaining about her choice to leave King’s Landing. At twenty-four, she’d thought she’d left behaviours like this long behind. 

She reached over and flicked the alerts to silent, not needing any more Harry drama. She had enough real-life problems that deal with. Harry was not one she wanted to add to her already growing pile.

Sansa had always known that Harry was shallow and vain. He was a male model, for god sakes. Sansa had known precisely what he was. Still, his selfishness had hit a new low.

They'd met when they'd been in university, her working on her double master's degrees in marketing and communication. She’d been twenty-one, he’d been twenty-two. While a year older than her, Harry was still toiling away at an undergraduate degree in recreation management. Sansa didn't even know what that meant. Or what type of job he hoped to get from that.

Harry was pretty and comfortable on the eyes and hadn't taken much effort when so much of Sansa's life had been consumed with her career, her schooling and building her brand.

From early on, Sansa had always known she wanted to have some type of career in fashion or beauty. For the longest time, she'd thought she might become a fashion designer, but she realized that while she loved making her own clothes, the pressure of doing it for others did not appeal to her. What she loved was fashion and make-up and helping her friends feel good about themselves.

Of course, she'd grown up in the North, with a Dad that was a pro hockey player and all her siblings played the game. Culture, fashion and make up hadn’t exactly been big in the Stark household, except when it came to Sansa’s mom. She’d put her foot down when Ned wanted Sansa to play hockey as well, instead buying Sansa a pair of white figure skates.

“God Ned, at least let me have one child,” her mother had exclaimed.

After that, Sansa had figure skated for years, loving the pomp and glitter and discipline that came with it. She and her Mom spent hours making her costumes, tirelessly sewing on sequins to the bodices of her outfits, giggling over how pretty they were.

Often it was her Mom that took her to her competitions and sat and watched her at the rink while she practiced. Everyone else was busy playing hockey. But Sansa didn't mind. She and her Mom were super close, and it was her Mother that had exposed Sansa to ballet and opera and classical music. She and her Mom had spent hours watching classic films, her Mother waxing on about the beauty of a bygone era. Sansa loved to cuddle up with her Mom on a snowy Sunday afternoon at Winterfell and lose herself in a world of beautiful people from the past. 

It was her Mother that had encouraged Sansa to go to university in the Riverlands, spreading her wings and getting out of the North. There Sansa had stayed with her grandparents, Minisa and Hoster Tully. And had found her passion.

If Sansa's Mother loved fashion and beauty, she didn't even hold a candle to Minisa Tully. The woman was a queen. Every single day Sansa's grandmother did her hair and make-up and dressed to impress. Sansa was in awe of her, and they spent countless hours in front of Minisa's impressive lighted mirrors in a room she had dedicated solely to her wardrobe, hair and make-up.

When Sansa introduced her grandmother to the many women who had started doing their own make-up and hair tutorials on YouTube, an idea was born.

"You should do that," Minisa had said after they'd whiled away an entire afternoon watching video after video.

Sansa waved a hand. "No, I'm not good. Not like them."

Minisa snorted elegantly. "You're better. And prettier."

"You think so?" Sansa asked.

She had never even considered having her own channel. She'd pondered it all weekend, in between homework and dates with Harry.

When she asked him, he only seemed interested in what it might do for him. He'd confessed that he was only at university at his Uncle Petyr's insistence and that what he really wanted to do was become a male model.

In between classes, assignments and more homework, Sansa scoured the internet on how to start her own YouTube channel. It was incredibly straight forward and easy, especially with someone with Sansa's intellect.

She discovered that it was essential to cultivate her image, be authentic and focus on quantity.

Sansa experimented first, making Harry take numerous videos of her. When he complained, Sansa had her grandmother step in and help out. Minisa took to the technology like a duck to water, helping Sansa with endless trials and errors until they perfected her technique. 

When Sansa posted her first video, an update on the classic smoky eye, it was a hit, and she quickly followed that up with a tutorial for an everyday make-up look that worked well for school or work.

Sansa gained momentum quickly and opened herself up to her audience, linking her YouTube channel to her Instagram, Twitter, Facebook and Tumblr account so that she was available everywhere to those that followed.

Sansa loved what she did, in between intensive study sessions as she worked at her double masters’ degrees.

To her surprise, her success helped launch Harry's career, so when she graduated, and he suggested they move to King's Landing as the modelling opportunities were greater there, Sansa readily agreed.

By that time, she had almost a million followers, and she had started to attract sponsors and make some serious money. Using her degrees in marketing and communication, she built a support team for herself, employing her friend Podrick Payne to help her manage all her social media accounts.

Leaving her grandmother was the hardest thing Sansa had ever done, short of leaving her Mom in Winterfell. Before she left, Minisa and her went for lunch, and her grandmother slid an envelope across the table, tapping an elegantly manicured nail against it.

"What's this?" Sansa asked, a bit bewildered. She was making more than enough money to support herself. And Harry.

"This is an investment in your future, my dear," Minisa said.

"An investment in what?"

"It's time to up your game, as they say," Minisa responded, her perfectly plucked eyebrows rising in a silent challenge to Sansa. 

"Up to my game?"

Minisa nodded. "Yes. I believe it is time you develop your own brand of make-up, dear. It will set you apart and skyrocket your following. And, you will control your products and be able to market yourself and sell them. It's a win-win."

Sansa's mind was racing.

_Could she really do it? Create her own make-up brand? _

The possibilities made her excited and she threw her arms around her grandmother.

"I'm going to miss you so much," Sansa said, weeping softly. 

"And I will miss you, my dear child," Minisa said.

That had been just over a year ago, and now, at twenty-four, Sansa had over four million followers and her own line of make-up. Next spring, she was planning on launching her first perfume, and her Chief Operating Officer, Yohn Royce, was projecting sales in the neighbourhood of two- five million dollars from her make-up alone.

With the sponsorship that Sansa now had from her YouTube channel, she was a very wealthy woman all in her own right, having earned just under four million dollars last year, with that expected to double this year.

Thankfully, even though she and Harry lived together, her father had made them both sign papers that ensured all of Sansa’s earnings were hers alone. It had been the one thing Ned had been a stickler on. 

All of this had happened so fast, and Sansa loved her life. She had a fulfilling career, fanatical success and a great family.

The only blight was her boyfriend.

Things with Harry weren't exactly perfect. He was as vain and shallow as ever, and even though they lived together in King's Landing, the moment Sansa had decided to come home to Winterfell, he'd been acting like a jerk. He complained that with her moving back to Winterfell, and with him refusing to go along, their shared Instagram feed would suffer. Sansa knew she was the draw; Harry barely had twenty-five thousand followers and her account had well over a million.

Sansa knew Harry was lazy, both as a boyfriend and as a model. He hardly booked any work, and instead seemed to sponge off her. Whenever her brother and father came south with their hockey team, Harry made sure he was 'out of town.'

Robb had taken one look at him and asked Sansa what in the hell she was doing with a loser like him.

It was a question that Sansa couldn't answer. She knew she should break up with Harry; she just honestly didn't have the time or energy to deal with the fallout, which would include finding a new place to live — or somehow kicking him out. It just seemed easier to ignore how bad their relationship was, focusing on her skyrocketing career and new make-up line MiSa.

Recently Sansa had added a full thirty-thousand viewers after she'd dyed her signature red locks blonde. Harry had just about had a conniption fit, but her followers had loved it and Sansa was slowly getting used to it. She knew she had to stay fresh and relevant, and this was one of her biggest uptakes since she'd first started.

Her world was just about perfect, except for the crappy boyfriend part.

And then her father had called six weeks ago and her entire world had fallen apart.

Her Mother had discovered a lump in her breast.

_A lump. _

Such an innocuous-sounding word, which had such a huge impact on the entire Stark family.

Sansa still remembered her father saying it was small, and they had found it early and that her Mother would start treatment immediately. That had been at the end of July when her father and brothers had been around to help.

"It's just when hockey season starts; I'm not sure how much time I'll have. I tried to resign from my position as coach of the team, but you know your Mother," Ned said, his voice tight with emotion and love.

_Gods,_ Sansa thought, _her father loved her mother so much_.

Sansa couldn’t imagine what might happen to her family should the worst thing happen with her mother and the lump.

"Dad, you don't have to say anything. I'll come home."

There was silence, and all Sansa could hear was her Dad's sniffling. "Sansa, lovebug, I can't ask that of you."

"You're not. I'm offering it. Dad, this is Mom. It's not even a question. I can do my job from anywhere, and even my make-up brand can be run by Yohn down in King's Landing for the most part."

"And your boyfriend? He would be ok with this?"

Sansa shook her head. She had a feeling what Harry's feelings would be on her coming home and she couldn’t care less. This was her mother. Nothing mattered more than her.

"It doesn't matter, Dad. I'm coming, when does the season start?" Sansa asked.

"Beginning of September, bug," Ned told her.

"I'll be there, Dad."

"Thanks, baby. I know your Mother will be so relieved."

That was that. There was no question of staying away.

Sansa worked her butt off over the next four weeks to get things ready to go home.

Harry, as predicted, had whined the entire time, becoming more and more of an ass. By the end of the month, Sansa had happily driven away from him, wondering what on earth she was doing with him. She couldn't believe she was with a man that would question why she would go home to be with her Mother who had breast cancer. She knew she needed to break up with him, she just needed to find the time.

And now, she was just moments away from her parents sprawling Winterfell estate. Her heart warmed at the sight, the mansion built on the shores of a massive lake. Her father had said she could have one of the secondary buildings, a home that was bigger than most houses in a typical suburban neighbourhood.

While Sansa might have been slightly worried about her relationship, it was her Mother's heath that had her crying herself to sleep most nights. She loved her Mother and Catelyn had been her biggest supporter for her entire life. Sansa just hoped and prayed that they could get it all and that her Mother would live a long, healthy life.

Her Dad had texted her the Wolves schedule. The combine had started last week, with full contact practices this week. That meant they were only three weeks away from their first pre-season games, and then her father, two brothers and sister would all be so busy, in and out of town and consumed with the Wolves that her mother would have been alone more often than not.

Sansa had gotten here just in time, and she looked forward to spending time with her Mom and taking care of her, as today was the first real practice.

Sansa shook herself from her melancholy thoughts. The last thing that Sansa needed her Mother to put up with was her fears. Parking her car, Sansa took a moment to compose herself and then grabbed her purse and phone and walked into Winterfell Manor, determined to do whatever necessary to make sure Catelyn Stark kicked cancer's ass.

* * *

_ Sandor _

Sandor Clegane groaned as the trainer for the Wintertown Wolves handed him an icepack.

It was the first full-contact practice with his new team in the North, and he was feeling every hit and check that had come his way.

"Contact practices are fucking hell, huh old boy," his best friend Bronn said, groaning as he took the seat next to him.

He and Bronn had been traded in the offseason, from the Lannisport Lions, the championship team last season to this one in the North.

Sandor knew that the owner of the Lions had balked at the impressive ten million dollars per year salary that Sandor commanded as the best defenseman in the league. He had been set to become the highest-paid player in the league.

Instead of paying him, Sandor had been traded for prospects.

Tywin Lannister was betting that at thirty-one, Sandor's best days were behind him, which Sandor knew, were decidedly not. Bronn was a year younger than him at thirty. 

Since he'd just been named the most valuable player in the playoff championships, Sandor had thought that he'd been safe with the Lions.

Apparently not.

The call from his agent had been a rude awakening for a man that had been drafted and played his entire career for the Lions. He hadn't ever lived anywhere but the Westerlands, and though he'd never admit it to anyone, he had been nervous about coming North.

_So much for fucking loyalty_, Sandor had thought bitterly. 

Still, that was the life of a pro athlete, and apparently Ned Stark had wanted him. Stark had wanted him enough to pay his insane salary and set him up with an incredible penthouse apartment in downtown Wintertown where the Wolves played.

The only saving grace about being traded, as far as Sandor could tell, was that his best friend had been traded along with him. And that the Wolves, who played in a different division than the Lions, had a real shot at being champions this year.

Sandor had been assessing the team since they'd been put through the combine and physical tests last week.

Of course, Sandor had passed them all with flying colours. His entire life was hockey, and he didn't mean to lose a single step, despite being one of the oldest members of the team.

Taking the ice pack gratefully from the small, angry-looking woman, Sandor moaned again as he leaned back and surveyed the dressing room.

_The coach wasn't a total cunt, so that was something_, Sandor thought, looking at Ned Stark.

The man had been an all-star defenseman back in the day when he'd played, and he'd made the transition to coaching when he'd retired seven years ago; the last five as the head coach here in Wintertown. Last year he’d been named the team’s General Manager as well.

As far as Sandor could tell, the man was fair. To a fault.

Sandor knew his position was safe. He was the best in the entire league at defence.

That wasn't him bragging, just the truth. At 6'6 and a solid 250lbs, no one in the league matched him physically, and he could skate circles around most of the rookies out there. His hits were punishing, and he was almost like a second goalie. Any forward flying into their end lost a step or two when faced with Sandor Clegane on the blue line. He was a force on the power play with his booming shot, and he logged more minutes than anyone on the team. 

Speaking of rookies, they had a good one. Sandor let his smoke grey eyes settle on their top prospect.

Rickon Stark was eighteen and was Ned's youngest son. And man, the kid, could fly out there.

"Fucking magic with the puck," Bronn muttered, following Sandor's gaze to Ric.

A thirty Bronn, like him, was considered a veteran.

Bronn was a grinder; he'd get into the corners and dig the puck out, passing it to the more skilled players and then bashing and banging his way down the ice to free up space for his teammates. He was a total asshole and one of Sandor's only friends.

"Kid's good," Sandor grunted, sucking back on the electrolyte drink in his hand.

Sandor treated his body like a temple, and this summer, he'd gain even more muscle if that were possible. He knew he’d never been in as good of shape as he was right now. He'd been pissed he'd been traded and had vowed to show that fucker Tywin Lannister that he'd made a mistake.

He sneered at those that were coming into the dressing room and everyone there gave him a wide birth.

It could have been the sleeves of tattoos covering his arms, chest and back. He had enough ink to write a novel, and each one had meaning to him. It was a way of taking back some control over what he looked like. He marked his body with his choices now.

It could have been his massive frame and the snarl on his face that had people staying away from him — even other asshole hockey players.

It could have been his incredibly fearsome reputation. Even in practice, he was someone that no one wanted to go up against, and he knew that more than a few of them were limping and sore because of him. He loved it.

But it was most likely due to the enormous scar that marred half his handsome face. He kept his black hair short, knowing that nothing could cover that horrible molted scarring. He'd had reconstructive surgery years ago to fix part of his ear, and through a series of skin grafts the scarring was less horrible than it had been when he was younger. But no amount of cosmetic surgery could fix the fact that half his face was fucked up. Even with the surgery, there was an unnatural smoothness to the skin that had him growing a beard to try to camouflage it as much as possible.

The worst part was, the surgeon had done wonders but all Sandor could see was what it had looked like before. It fucked with his head. A lot.

He was sure that it'd take half the season for half these fuckers to even talk with him, and he didn't give a shit. He was here to win another championship, not be best friends with them.

"What the fuck do you think their deal is?" Bronn said, pointing to a group of players that had Sandor wanting to roll his eyes.

Three of them, Robb Stark, Jon Snow and Theon Greyjoy made up the top line on the team. They were thick as thieves as far Sandor could tell and had spent half the practice today laughing and joking around. There were all twenty-six in the prime of their careers. 

"Pretty boys," Sandor growled and stripped off his undershirt, dropping it in a pile for laundry to take care of.

Sandor knew that Robb was the coach' s other son. Robb was decent enough, but Sandor already knew that Rickon would be better than his older brother. He wondered how that would sit with the eldest Stark. In Sandor’s world, older brothers were to be avoided at all possible costs.

"But can they fucking score?" Bronn said, scratching his scruffy beard. Sandor just looked at him, wondering if his friend meant on or off the ice.

For some reason, and Sandor still couldn't figure it out, his friend had to practically beat the women off him. Everywhere they went, Bronn attracted the ladies, and Sandor was sure that up here, in the North, it would be no different.

Lost in his thoughts, Sandor missed when the goalie came in until suddenly a large hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"I like you, dog," Tormund Giantsbane said, all-star tender for the Wolves said. Sandor’s nickname in the league was The Hound, but apparently this idiot didn’t even know that.

Then, without even asking, the man sat down on the other side of Sandor in full gear.

"What the fuck do you think you’re doing?" Sandor asked the man.

"Being your friend, dog. You're going to make us better," Tormund said, waving a finger in Sandor's face. Tormund was thirty as well, and as mad as most goalies were. 

Sandor batted it away. "Course I'll make you fucking better. I'm the best fucking d-man in the league."

"Does that mean douchebag?" someone said, and Sandor shot to his feet, eyes scanning the room. He moved fast, quicker than anyone thought possible.

Bronn just shook his head and muttered, "Stupid fucker," while Tormund started clapping and whistling, egging Sandor on. Tormund leaned closer to Bronn and pointed to the man that Sandor had by the neck. “He’s a fucker.”

Bronn snorted. He liked their goalie already.

Sandor grabbed the man who'd commented, holding him by the neck and pinning him to the wall. "What the fuck did you say to me?" he snarled.

The dark-haired man sneered back. "Douchebag."

Sandor's meaty fist reared back, and he was just about to unleash his fury on him when Ned's voice cut through his rage.

"Clegane. Ramsay. Outside. NOW!" Coach Stark bellowed.

Sandor dropped Ramsay, but not before leaning in. "Don't ever call me that again, or I'll fucking hurt you so bad you'll be pissing out of a fucking bag the rest of your pathetic life."

Ramsay's eyes flared wide for a moment in fear, before both men followed the coach outside, resigned to getting their asses reamed out on the first day of real practice. Ramsay was a forward, decent enough, but at twenty-four he had a chip on his shoulder and something to prove. 

It was going to be a long season, was all Sandor could think if this was the type of teammate they expected him to put up with.

"Ramsay, what the fuck was that?" Ned Stark barked at the young man with the sneer on his face.

"He's a douchebag coach."

Ned shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Bolton. I told you at the start of the season, you have three strikes. That's number one."

"And him? He practically choked me to death."

Ned shook his head. "Hit the showers, Bolton."

When it was just Ned and Sandor, the big man had the wherewithal to look slightly chagrined.

"Clegane, you're the best D man in the league. There's no question. On the ice, you're money, every night. I know I can count on you. Hell, you know what we paid for you, how badly we wanted you."

Sandor smirked.

"But, the game isn't just on the ice. We have a chance this year, Clegane. A real chance and you know it as much as I do. I need you to be a leader for this team. It’s what we’ve been missing.”

Sandor's eyes widened, and Ned grinned, seeing the man was off balance. Ned let his hand come down on Sandor's shoulder.

"Come by the house this weekend and have dinner with us."

"Ummm, why, Coach?"

Ned's grin got wider. "Because when I name you captain, I want to make sure you're not going to rip someone's fucking head off."

"Coach, I appreciate the offer," Clegane started to say, trying to get out of this.

"Not an offer Clegane. This Saturday night. My house. Be there." Ned started to walk away. "Oh, and bring Bronn."

Sandor just shook his head before he went back into the dressing room to shower and change.

When he emerged, he was dressed in jeans, boots and a leather jacket. He palmed the keys to his bike and grinned when he saw his Harley Softtail waiting for him in the parking lot. After hockey, his bike was his greatest love.

Sandor swung his massive leg on the bike, and gunned the engine, pulling out of the parking lot in a roar.

He wondered, briefly, how his Monday had gone so fucking wrong and then he pushed that thought from his mind, opening up the throttle and roaring out of Wintertown and onto the open road. He'd figure out how to get out of dinner with the coach another time.

For now, he had his bike, a new team and perhaps even a captaincy. He had everything he ever wanted.

It didn't even occur to Sandor to even contemplate a woman. Or love.

Like most hockey players, he had his fair share of women. There was always someone who would sleep with a hockey player just because of their profession and to brag that they had spent a night with a pro. But those were meaningless hookups, and he rarely indulged these days.

He was thirty-one and had two serious relationships, and those had ended years ago. He'd long ago resigned himself to the fact that he was a man who was meant to be single.

Then the open road called to him, and Sandor thought of nothing else at all, as he ate up the miles on his bike, his world orderly and neat and just how Sandor Clegane, the best defender in the hockey league liked it.

He had no idea that he was about to meet his match, both on and off the ice in the Stark family that all but ruled the North. No, this year would prove to be the most interesting one yet in the life of Sandor Clegane. 


	2. Chapter 2

_ Sansa _

Sansa spent her first week back at Winterfell, getting herself settled into her new home, thankful once again for her mother's fantastic hospitality, even in the face of her diagnosis.

Sansa had barely had to do anything except move right into the second house on her parents sprawling property. She briefly wondered about sending for the rest of her things in King's Landing, but figured she'd give it a while. She had no idea how long she might stay here. And she had a feeling that Harry might react badly if she asked him to send her the rest of her belongings.

As promised, Catelyn had dedicated one of the spare rooms in Sansa's new home to her clothing and make-up area, and another smaller room as a study. It was the perfect blend of Sansa's businesses, and she thanked her Mom profusely for how thoughtful she had been. She could both post new videos daily, while at the same time work on her make-up line. She was so excited for MiSa, an all-vegan make-up line that absolutely did not do any testing on animals.

Despite the unfortunate circumstances that had led Sansa back here, now that she was home, she could feel the creative juices flowing. The pictures she'd snapped and added to her Instagram account had added followers by the thousands.

Tens of thousands.

Daily.

It was incredible.

People seemed to love that she had #gonehomeNorth and was #takingabreakfromHarry

Sansa had to wonder as she scrolled through the comments, just how disliked her boyfriend was because everyone seemed to be happy that they were 'on a break.' The comments made her snort and giggle, especially when more than one person said she was prettier than Harry and she needed a real man.

Everyone except Harry himself. He was livid.

There had been more than one angry text from him, claiming she had sold him out and that he had lost his latest gig when they discovered that he and Sansa were on seriously shaky ground.

Sansa had sent back a series of text messages asking Harry if he was serious that self-absorbed that he couldn't even be bothered to ask about her mother.

WHO WAS SICK!!!!

**Sansa**: Seriously Harry? That’s your biggest problem? What about my Mom- who has CANCER??????

Sansa had let herself rage and cry when he’d barely acknowledged her all-consuming fear that her Mom might die and instead continued to complain about her posts without him.

Sansa knew that she needed to dump Harry officially, and fast. He was a loser and she’d kept him around for way too long. She knew she’d need to analyze why, at some later point in time, but right now, her entire focus was her Mom.

Once she was settled in, Sansa had spent hours with her Mom, going over her treatment plans and what she could do to help, including running the household. Winterfell Manor was a massive estate and even though Sansa knew her Mom loved it, right now it was time for Catelyn Stark to focus on herself. And kicking cancer’s ass.

Thankfully their long-time cook Mordane was still with them, and she made all their meals, so that relieved that burden. Sansa spent hours going over the household accounts with both her Mom and Mordane, working out when the gardener and the housekeeper could come to keep things running smoothly. Satisfied that her Mom would have plenty of time to focus on her health with Winterfell taken care of, Sansa thanked Mordane.

The older woman drew Sansa close and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You are a good girl, coming home to be with your Mother. Mrs. Cat needs you, Sansa, don’t ever let her tell you differently. When she heard you were coming home, she wept and then was brighter than she’s been since that awful day she found the lump.”

Sansa broke into great, heaving sobs as Mordane held her, both of them hoping and praying that her mother’s cancer was beatable.

As for the rest of those living at Winterfell, it was only Sansa’s father and her youngest brother left.

Rickon, at just eighteen, was still living at home. Ned did not want his star rookie son out on his own in Wintertown.

Robb, her other brother, shared a place with two of his hockey buddies, Theon and Jon in Wintertown. Sansa shuddered to think what their place must look like. Three hockey players, all lifelong bachelors in one home.

Sansa had known both Theon and Jon since they were kids.

Jon's Mom, Lyanna Snow, and Ned were childhood friends, and Jon had grown up in nearby Moletown. When he'd shown an aptitude for hockey, Ned had billeted him with the Starks when he turned fifteen in order to help him have every opportunity to make the professional league. When Jon had been drafted, at eighteen, Ned and Cat had been just as happy as Lyanna. 

Theon Greyjoy was another one of Robb’s hockey buddies. He’d also come North to play in Wintertown, knowing that it was the best hockey academy for young players in all of Westeros.

Sansa had the biggest crush on Theon. But he'd never even looking her way. He was one of the main reasons Sansa had sworn off ever dating a hockey player.

She'd seen Robb, Jon and Theon go through an incredible amount of women. And she would NOT be that woman. For anyone. Not even a hockey player. Especially not them. She wanted to come first when she finally found a man to fall in love with. And she knew with these guys it was always hockey first.

Sansa had learned by watching Jon, Robb and Theon that there were always more women. More puck bunnies waiting at the rink, after games and practices to snare themselves a pro athlete. More waitresses at the pubs and restaurants they went to. More women waiting at their hotels. They were relentless and they were everywhere. 

Even now, at twenty-six, none of them had a steady girlfriend and Sansa couldn’t keep up with their dating lives.

_No thanks_, Sansa thought.

That would never be her. She would never be at home wondering if her husband was cheating on her while the team was away on a gruelling road trip or if he would trade her in for a younger model after a few kids. She'd seen it when her Dad played, with some of his teammates, although he was so in love with her Mom that he'd never done anything like that.

But Sansa knew what her parents had was one in a million.

Shaking herself from those thoughts, Sansa caught her Dad kissing her Mom in the kitchen. He was dressed in his workout gear, which meant he was on the way to the rink, and was cupping her face in his big hands. Sansa loved that despite how intense and even violent her Dad’s profession was, with her Mom he was the gentlest man on earth.

Sansa wondered if perhaps she’d held onto Harry for so long because she knew that she’d most likely never find a man to treat her the way that her Dad treated her Mom. There was never any chance Sansa would lose her heart to Harry. He was too shallow and too vain for her to really give herself to him completely. He’d been safe. Like a buffer to finding a real relationship. She knew she had never even come close to loving Harry.

Sansa coughed slightly to let her parents know she was there, smiling as her Dad didn’t let go of her Mom.

_To be that loved,_ Sansa thought wistfully.

Sansa was scheduled to take her Mom to her first chemo treatment this morning. She'd had surgery to remove the lump over a month ago and healed enough now to start the next steps.

"Ned, I'll be fine," Catelyn was saying softly as the big former hockey player gazed at her with worried eyes.

"Don't worry, Dad; I've got her," Sansa said, heart, melting at her parents. "Where's Ric?"

Ned rolled his eyes. "Late."

"How's the team this year?" Sansa asked, pouring herself a coffee.

Despite her love of figure skating, Sansa was as knowledgeable about hockey as the rest of her family. She couldn't help it; she'd grown up in a rink. Hockey ruled in the Stark household and Sansa willing worshiped at the altar.

"Good."

Sansa gave him a look, and he grinned.

"Really good. We got him, Sansa."

"Who?"

"Sandor Clegane. The Hound. Best fucking defenseman in the league, bug."

"Ned, language," Catelyn admonished him, but even she could see the excitement in her husband's face when he talked about his newest player.

"Wow, that's impressive, Dad. He was MVP in the playoffs last year, wasn't he?"

"Damn right, he was. He's even better this year. Tywin was a fool to let him go, and I'm going to make him pay."

Ned Stark had a long-standing feud with the Lannister family.

"Dad going off about Clegane again?" Ric asked, sailing into the kitchen as if he weren't ten minutes late. "It's the biggest man-crush I've ever seen," Ric added, teasing their Dad and winking at Sansa.

"Is he that good, Ricrock?"

Rickon scoffed. "The man is a beast. He's fucking huge, San. I hate it when I have to do offensive drills against him. And I'm pretty sure he's taking it easy on me."

“Language,” Cat said again, although it was a losing battle in the Stark home. 

"Well, that's great, guys. I'm glad." Sansa meant every word. She knew her Dad wanted a championship. Maybe this was finally their year.

"I'm sure you are my sister. We all know you have a thing for d-men," Rickon said, teasing her gently.

It was true that Sansa's favourite player when her Dad had played professional hockey had been a defenseman. He played for the Wolves hated rivals, the Lions. And he was the owner's son.

Jaime Lannister had been her favourite player, and Sansa didn't even try to deny it.

She just laughed and put her cup in the sink, smacking Ric on the back of the head. "I've grown up, Ric."

"Yeah, but I bet Jaime's still your favourite hockey player of all time," Ric said, eyes dancing as he darted away from her as she tried to swat him again.

Sansa batted her eyes. "What can I say? I like pretty boys!"

Rickon rolled his eyes and then glanced at his Dad. "We all know that’s true. Come on, Pops, we're going to be late."

Ned growled at his son, who leaned down to press a soft kiss to Cat's cheek. "Kick cancer's ass, Mom."

Cat pulled Ric close for a hug, and he hugged her gently. Then he was up and gone.

Sansa turned her head, tears in her eyes at the sweet scene. This is why she'd come home. Because her family was everything to her, and her mother had done everything in her power to give Sansa the life she had always dreamed of.

Before Ned left, he turned back. "Oh San, I wouldn't mind if you came by the rink in a day or two. I'd like your opinion on some of the rookies."

Sansa promised she would. She had a knack, they had discovered, for seeing things that others missed, and if she was around, Ned always got her out to look at his team.

"I'll stop by Thursday, Dad," she told him and then turned to focus on her Mom.

"Ready to kick cancer's butt?"

Catelyn laughed and reached for Sansa's hand, squeezing it hard.

"Thank you for coming home."

Sansa waved a hand. "Do not thank me for being a good daughter, Mom."

"Still, I know how your career was just taking off, and I'd hate to be the reason it stalled," Cat said, worrying her hands a bit.

Sansa shook her head.

"Mom, since I've been home, people can't get enough of the North. They love my new posts- if anything this is helping my career. Now, stop worrying. I am here for you."

Catelyn's smiled, more pleased than she would admit to having Sansa back here. She was her baby, the child she was closest to, and facing this whole mess was somehow easier with her daughter by her side.

"Alright dear, let's go kick butt," Cat said, smiling as they exited the house, together, ready to face whatever cancer threw Cat's way.

* * *

_Sandor _

Sandor knew the first week of full practice was hell after the summer break. It always had been and always would be. It was one of the things he liked best about hockey; how some things about it never changed.

The first week back was always hell.

Nothing ever felt as good as a fresh sheet of ice.

He loved the smell of a rink.

And there would always be some pretty boy asshole on the team, some veterans like him and some punks that had no idea how to keep their mouths shut and be part of something bigger than them. 

Right now, one such punk was Ramsay Bolton, who, in Sandor's opinion, had a complete shit week. If it weren't for his numbers last year, Sandor knew that Coach Stark would seriously be contemplating cutting his ass by the time the first pre-season games rolled around.

The others weren't so bad.

Sandor still had barely spoken ten words to the trio of Robb, Theon and Jon. They seemed alright but those three were tight and after hockey, all they seemed to care about was chasing women. Sandor was too old for that shit.

Rickon Stark, on the other hand, had attached himself to Sandor after that first day when Sandor had grabbed Ramsay by the throat and threatened him.

Rickon amused Sandor. The kid never shut up, which was alright because he never seemed to expect Sandor to reply, but damn did he seem to know everything about the team. Sandor sat there, grunting and listening to whatever came out of the kid’s mouth.

Bronn got a kick out of the kid, and Tormund had also taken him under his wing, so somehow the best rookie on the team had the protection of three of the scariest guys there. It meant that no one fucked with Rickon.

Right now he was talking about his oldest sister. Sandor had no idea why, but all three of them were just sitting there like dumbasses listening to him.

"Of course my sister's favourite player was Jaime Lannister. Just about drove my Dad nuts when he played in the league. She had his posters all over her room, and she even waited for like an hour after a game for his autograph one time. My Dad was pissed.”

Sandor grunted.

Of course, Rickon's sister loved Jaime fucking Lannister. All the women did. He was the prettiest fucking player in the entire league for years, a leading scorer even though he played defence and all-around dickhead if you wanted Sandor's honest opinion. The man went through women as some people went through underwear.

Even now, at forty-four, Jaime was an assistant coach to the Lions and still hadn't settled down if last year was anything to go by when Sandor player for him.

"How old is your sister?" Sandor asked, intrigued despite himself. The Starks were hockey royalty, but he knew next to nothing about the females in their family.

"Twenty-four. She just moved back home," Rickon said, gulping down his Gatorade. “And my other one is twenty-three."

"Lannister's only forty-four," Bronn said, winking at Rickon. "Maybe she likes older men." He nudged Sandor who snarled at him.

Rickon laughed and shook his head. "She's got a boyfriend. He's kind of a dickhead. He's a model. A male model." Rickon rolled his eyes as if it were the worst thing possible, and Sandor shook his head at that thought.

Of course, Ned Stark's daughter was dating a model. Her favourite player was Jaime Lannister. She sounded vain and shallow and not anything like a woman Sandor would be interested in.

Not that women liked him. If his face didn't scare them away, his attitude did. But if he ever were to date, he'd want someone down to earth, who cared about people. Who wouldn't be turned off by his face and who would maybe give him a chance. Sansa Stark sounded like the last woman on earth who would do that.

There were on a mandatory hour break before the second half of practice would start, and the dressing room was crowded. First cuts would be posted Monday morning, after the Stark BBQ this weekend.

Coach Stark had pulled Sandor aside and said he wanted his opinion before he made the first cuts, and Sandor knew that meant he had to pay attention this afternoon.

They were just about ready to take to the ice, in a blue vs red scrimmage, when a small commotion at the door drew Sandor's attention.

Standing next to the coach was the most beautiful woman Sandor had ever seen. She was tall, at least 5'8 if he had to guess, blond and stacked. She wore skinny jeans, a Wolves sweatshirt and boots that looked like they could easily fit on the back of his bike and not miss a beat. She was smiling at Coach Stark, who leaned over to hug her and hand her a clipboard.

Before Sandor could ask who she was, Coach clapped and whistled, and everyone shut up and turned to him.

"Alright, men. Scrimmage this afternoon. Full contact, five on five. We'll play two periods, switching goalies, so each side gets a chance with Giantsbane."

Tormund's cocky howl made more than a few of them roll their eyes.

"Just so you know, I've added another set of eyes. For those of you that are new, Sansa, my daughter, generally comes and helps out during evaluation week," Ned said, beaming at the beautiful woman beside him.

_Fuck me_, Sandor thought. _That was Ric's sister?_

He looked at the kid who was grinning and waving at Sansa, and who gave him a little wave back.

"Fucking family affair," Ramsay muttered darkly, and Sandor shot him a look. "Who the fuck is that bitch to evaluate us?"

Sandor stood and stomped over to Ramsay, leaning down into his space.

"Apologize."

It wasn't a suggestion.

The room had gone silent.

Ramsay crossed his arms and said nothing.

Sandor leaned in closer. "I said fucking apologize to the lady for what you called her."

"Make me, dog," Ramsay sneered. A growl from Sandor and the presence of not only Bronn but Robb, Jon and Theon, had Ramsay scrambling to his feet to give a hasty apology to Sansa before he hurried out onto the ice. Sandor was just about to follow him when a gentle tug on his jersey stopped him.

"Thanks," came Sansa's voice, a smile on her beautiful face.

For some reason, which Sandor couldn't figure out, she wasn't cringing away from him in horror. In fact, she looked almost interested in him, which couldn't be right.

"Didn't do it for you. He's a fucking asshole, that needs to learn his place. Save your thanks for someone who gives a shit, Ms. Stark."

Then Sandor stomped past her and onto the ice, wondering what on earth ever possessed him to do such a thing. She was so far out of his league; it wasn't even funny.

She had a boyfriend.

Who was a model.

Her favourite player was Jaime Lannister.

But why did he have to be such an asshole?

Sandor was lost in his head as he skated around the ice, taking warm-up. For the scrimmage today, he was paired with Gendry Waters. Gendry was good; Sandor was better. But Gendry worked hard and at twenty-four was decent enough. 

Somehow Sandor had also ended up with both Robb and Jon on his team, and both of them made a point of thanking him for standing up for Sansa. He snarled at them, and they just shook their heads at him, skating away.

It meant when the puck was dropped, Sandor was in a foul mood, one in which he fully intended to take out on his teammates.

_Time for these pansies to decide if they really wanted it_, Sandor thought, as he threw check after punishing check. His side decimated the others, easily winning the first period by a score of 5-0. Sandor had all but ignored Sansa as she stood by her Dad and the Assistant Coach Cassel until Ned called him over between the break.

“Clegane, good show," Ned said and then glanced at Sansa.

The frosty look in her eyes was enough to freeze even the warmest of hearts, which Sandor’s wasn’t. Still, he had to give her credit for not backing down from him. Very few people could look him in the eye, and she seemed to be one of them.

"Clegane, I noticed when you gain entry to the offensive zone, you either dump the puck in for the forwards to chase, or you shoot it on the net."

Sandor resisted rolling his eyes at her. Barely.

"Yeah."

He wasn't going to debate hockey with her. Not now. Not ever.

"Well," she said, eyes narrowed, "If you pushed off on your left skate, you'd give yourself more speed and a window towards the net. You're faster than you look, and most goalies won't be expecting an off-angle shot. You could add ten to fifteen points this year if you can get the puck to the net faster through traffic and off the centerline where they are expecting the shot."

Sandor grunted at the video she had pulled up on her smart little tablet. He had to give her credit; what she said made a hell of a lot of sense. He just hated that she had spotted it and he hadn’t.

"You're against Giantbane this period, Sandor. Take him down a notch, will you," Ned said, winking at Sandor.

Sandor was stunned. He had no idea why Ned Stark seemed to like him so much.

His daughter though? She was staring daggers at him.

"Will do coach," Sandor said, skating away and thinking about what he'd just learned.

First, that Sansa Stark knew her hockey. Like- really fucking knew her hockey. He wondered briefly if she played.

And second, that his first assessment was right. She was out of his league, and she clearly hated him for his earlier behaviour.

Still, he'd always been coachable. It was one of his greatest assets, besides his massive size. He listened to what others told him. And he’d do the same with her.

When he gained the blue line with the puck, he did what Sansa suggested, pushed off on his left foot, transferring his weight and his power to his dominate right side, gained a lane and fired. The puck fucking hummed and sailed right past Tormund, who didn’t even see it. 

He snarled in displeasure.

Sandor risked a glance over at Sansa and saw her smirk. He had to give her credit; she might like pretty boys, but she'd just helped the Hound become that much more dangerous on the ice.

The next twenty minutes was a clinic, as Sandor scored twice more and had the other team in fits by the end. It didn't matter who their goalie was. When Sandor was on the ice, he dominated the whole sheet. He thought he might apologize to Sansa, to offer his thanks for what she had done for him and his game, but she was gone by the time his teammates were done congratulating him.

_No matter_, Sandor thought.

He'd see her on Saturday night, at the Stark family BBQ. He'd make his apologies then. There was no reason for there to be animosity between them. She was an essential part of the Stark family, and Sandor was coming to love his time in the North more and more. The people here were straight forward and unpretentious, unlike those in Lannisport.

Bronn clapped him on the back.

"She's a firecracker, huh," he said, not naming names, but Sandor knew precisely who his friend was talking about.

He grunted and leaned back, letting the last forty minutes trickle through his mind. If he kept this pace up, he'd have his best season. Ever.

"I don't like it," Tormund muttered, taking a seat on the other side of Sandor. "She used to be a ginger. Beautiful. Kissed by fire like me. What is she doing, dying her hair blond?"

Both Sandor and Bronn gaped at him.

"What are we a bunch of fucking girls?" Sandor asked, voice incredulous.

"She did it for her followers," came Ric's voice.

He pulled out the newest iPhone, something all the kids these days seemed to never be without. Sandor could barely remember his cell. Then Ric showed them a picture she had posted when she'd gone from red to blond.

For once, Sandor agreed with Tormund. Why had she dyed her hair blond? Blondes were a dime a dozen, but a true redhead? That was rare. Still, the blonde hair didn’t take anything away from her beauty.

"Her followers?" Sandor asked, curious despite himself.

He had no social media accounts. He didn't trust that shit at all, despite his agent telling him he could raise his profile even higher if he had them.

"Yup," Rickon said, taking a seat and sighing. "She had her own YouTube channel. She's what is called a beauty influencer."

"What the fuck's that?" Bronn asked looking baffled. He wasn’t the only one. Sandor had no idea what the fuck Rickon was talking about. 

Ric grinned. "She does make-up and stuff."

"And people pay her?" Sandor was stunned.

Ric nodded. "Yup. I think she said she made over four million last year on sponsorship from her channel. That doesn't even account for what she makes from her make-up brand."

Sandor's mouth dropped. "She makes that much money putting on make-up?"

Ric gave him a funny look. "You make twice that chasing a rubber puck around the ice." The man had to give the kid credit; he had a point.

"Anyways, when she dyed her hair, she gained like almost thirty-thousand subscribers overnight. And now, being in the North? She said her numbers are increasing daily. By the thousands.”

Sandor shuddered, actually physically shuddered at the thought of being followed by that many people. At having your whole life so exposed. How did she stand it?

"How many people follow her?" Tormund asked, intrigued.

"She's well over four million now. I bet by the weekend; she breaks the five million mark on both her Instagram feed and her YouTube channel."

Sandor choked on his Gatorade. "Four million people?" His skin almost crawled at such a thought.

Rickon laughed, standing, and clapped him on the back. "It's a new world, Hound," and then went to find his Dad, leaving the three veterans in the corner.

"Fucking hell," Bronn said, shaking his head in stunned wonder. "I didn't even know that was a fucking job choice."

Tormund and Sandor both agreed.

Then Bronn clapped his thighs. "Well, lads, I'm off. Can't keep the ladies waiting."

He wiggled his eyebrows at both of them, as Sandor made for the showers, his mind much too occupied with a certain blonde-haired woman that was nothing like what she seemed.

Sandor couldn't figure her out. Was she that shallow that she built an entire career on putting on make-up and taking pictures of herself?

She seemed so knowledgeable when she was speaking with him, smart and confident. But then he remembered the male model boyfriend and her favourite player. Maybe his first impression was correct.

Either way, Sandor knew someone like her would be a nightmare for a man like him.

Her entire world was beautiful people and his whole world was hockey and making sure people didn't get too close to him. And hiding his hideous face. He wondered, briefly, what she, a queen of beauty, must think of a monster like him?

Then, as if disgusted by his thoughts, he pushed them, and Sansa Stark from his mind. He had a championship to win and fixating on a woman that would never look twice at him was no way to get it done.

Sansa Stark and Sandor Clegane were not meant to occupy the same worlds, and even if he was in hers now, it was only for a short while.

Sooner or later, a bad hit, a late check, or a nagging injury would force him to retire. Then he'd be out of her rarefied world and just a regular joe again.

He'd met more than one woman like Sansa Stark. They were shallow, superficial and looking for the perfect man to mould into the ideal husband. They'd have 2.5. kids and a mansion on the lake. They would not want a man with half a face, a surly attitude and a Harley that he loved more than most people.

No, Sandor thought as he stalked from the rink and hopped on his bike, he and Sansa Stark would be lucky if they could manage a civil conversation with one another.

He'd try. After all, it was the least he could do for Coach Stark and Rickon. Sandor liked them.

Too bad that Sansa was a stuck up bitch. Sandor found himself liking the Starks way more than he ever had the Lannisters.

Then the roar of his bike drowned out all his thoughts, thankfully, and he lost himself in speed, self-doubt and machine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stark Family BBQ

* * *

_ Sansa – Saturday, Stark family BBQ _

Sansa checked herself one last time in the mirror before she was to head over to her parents' house for her Dad’s annual welcome home BBQ. She knew she looked great because she’d uploaded a new video on her YouTube channel, but still, the little boost of confidence she got went a long way in making this day better.

Sansa had woken up this morning, determined to end things with Harry. She'd had a long chat with her Mom on Friday when they were relaxing after her latest cancer treatment. Everything about Harry and their relationship had just tumbled out of Sansa in one long stream of consciousness so that her mother now knew everything.

Catelyn, to her credit, hadn't judged Sansa, just sat there and squeezed her hand.

"Sometimes, we have to kiss a few frogs, dear, before we find our prince."

Sansa almost groaned. Her mother had been telling her that since she went on her first date with a super nice boy in high school that was on the debate team. He'd had braces, glasses and acne and had been perfectly safe. He’d never even kissed her. All her boyfriends were perfectly safe.

Even her crushes were safe.

Jaime Lannister? Of course, that was her hockey crush. The guy was amazing on the ice and a total man-whore off. He was not someone that Sansa would ever consider seriously dating- even if someone like Jaime were to look her way.

In fact, Sansa couldn't figure out what type of man she wanted to date, or that would make her heart race. Everyone either seemed too shallow, like Harry and Theon or too much into the chase, like Jon and Jaime.

Where were the good guys that wanted to date her and get to know her?

Where was the guy that would see that she didn't create her brand and her business because she was shallow but because she generally loved making women feel good about themselves?

Where was the guy that wouldn't be intimidated by her big brain and bigger bank account?

Where was the guy that had a heart of gold? Who was nice? Who would romance her?

Sansa snorted.

Nowhere, that's where. That type of guy just didn't exist. He was a unicorn — a myth.

Lying in her huge, comfy bed, her thoughts flicked briefly to Sandor Clegane, her Dad's new all-star defenceman.

When Sansa had stepped into the dressing room a few days earlier, she'd been immediately drawn to him. The man was huge. Massive. Rickon had said so, but it was different, seeing him in skates and in all his gear. Sansa had grown up around hockey players and wasn't a woman to swoon over one, but damn if the man hadn't sucked the breath right out of her.

Sansa was a tall woman, and Clegane dwarfed her. She liked that.

And he had the best eyes, she decided — smoky grey and so unusual.

And he was handsome. Dark, mysterious and seriously sexy. That short beard made her fingers itch to touch him.

Of course, she didn't miss that he'd had some serious reconstructive surgery done to what looked like half his face, nor the fact that no matter how good the skin grafts were, it was clear that there was a large scar there.

But somehow, and Sansa didn't know how, it didn't take away from his good looks at all. If anything, it drew her in more.

She wondered what had happened to cause such a scar, and then figured she'd never find out. The man didn’t exactly scream “open book and willing to share.”

She snorted and smashed her fist into her pillow. What was she doing?

The guy was a total jerk. He couldn't even accept her thank you for standing up for her to that asshole Ramsay and had glared at her when she'd given him a bit of advice to make him score more points.

Sansa wondered if he was like this with everyone, or was it just her? Did she just attract assholes?

Rickon loved him, almost as much as her Dad did.

Ned had told her and Catelyn the other night at supper that he was grateful that Clegane, Bronn and Tormund had taken Ric under their collective protective wing.

_So he couldn't be all bad, right?_ Sansa thought.

So many veterans didn't even speak to the rookies, but Sandor had gone out of his way, her Dad said, to be helpful to Rickon.

She knew she was stalling, thinking about Sandor Clegane when what she really needed to do was deal with Harry.

Things with him had only gotten worse in the past two days. The latest guilt trip text message said that if she didn't post something saying that they weren't over, that he'd lose his most recent job.

Since it was with Dany Drogo, Sansa's good friend and the hottest fashion designer in King's Landing right now, Sansa knew how to find out if Harry was telling the truth. Or some version of it.

Sansa's first call was to Dany. She made it while still in bed, snuggled in deeply, not wanting to face the day. Dany was a few years older than Sansa, and had been a godsend when she’d lived in King’s Landing. Her husband was a massive man, who doted on his wife. Drogo was thirty, Dany twenty-six. 

Not yet, at least.

"Hey Dan, how are things?" Sansa asked, twirling a lock of blond hair, missing the red. She knew she'd gained followers with the dye job, but she wondered how long she'd have to keep it before she could go back to her natural colour.

"San, great! How's the North? We miss you," Dany said, her voice bright and bubbly.

_Gods_, Sansa missed her friend. She really need to find some up here if she were going to stay.

Sansa sighed and told her about her Mom's treatments, the hockey team and being back home.

"Sounds heavy," Dany said, sympathy in every word. Somehow, the two of them had formed a fast and deep friendship, and she was one of the only people in King's Landing that Sansa missed since she'd decided to come back home.

"It is, but it's good as well, you know? Being back here, for my Mom, for my family."

Dany made a non-committal sound. She had a very fractured family and honestly had no idea what it was like to have people that cared about her that were related to her by blood. Her family was a disaster.

"So Harry," Sansa said, and Dany sighed.

"Look, San, we've always been straight with each other. I booked him for my new campaign when you two were still a thing. Mostly because of you. Without you, Harry is just…" Dany's voice trailed off.

Sansa bit her lip. She knew all of this, but it was still a bit of a shock to hear it spoken so bluntly. No one liked Harry, not even fashion designers and Sansa's best friend in the south.

Sansa knew what she had to do, even if she hated it. Gone were her plans to break up with him and start fresh. She wondered how long she had to kiss frogs before the universe would give her a prince. So far, it had not provided.

"What do you need from me to have him keep this job?" Sansa asked.

If Sansa could have seen Dany, she would have seen her friend's eyes narrow.

"It's not your job to help Harry keep his San. When are you going to cut him loose and let him grow up?"

Dany had no idea why Sansa kept dating Harry. The guy was a total loser, a parasite that sponged off Sansa constantly and name-dropped people that liked Sansa, not him.

Plus, Dany was almost sure that he'd been making the rounds at parties and events since Sansa left a week ago. She hadn't caught him cheating yet, but Dany knew it was only a matter of time.

"How long is this campaign, Dan?" Sansa asked, avoiding answering the question.

"Three weeks."

Sansa sighed. She could do it for three weeks. Three weeks of still pretending to be in a relationship with Harry. At least they had eight hundred miles between them.

"What do you need from me?"

"San, are you sure?" Dany asked, worry in her voice. She loved her friend, but sometimes she was too sweet for her own good.

"I'm sure. Three weeks and then I'll dump him."

Dany shook her head and then told Sansa precisely what she needed to keep Harry on the campaign. When they hung up, promising to talk more often, Sansa sunk back down into her bed, pulling the covers over her head. She knew that most people would just break up with Harry and be done, but she wasn't that person.

One more campaign and she'd make it clear that was all – she was out of this relationship. She didn't care. She'd be very clear with Harry on that account.

Heaving out a breath, Sansa tugged on her running gear, grabbed her phone and earbuds and was out the front door. She needed a break before she spoke with him, and she knew he wouldn't even be up yet. Harry rarely rose before noon.

Sansa would use her usual three-mile run to push away any thoughts of Harry Harding and how on earth she'd ended up with such a lame boyfriend out of her head.

Right before she started her run, she took a selfie and then added the hashtags:

#runningintheNorth

#HiHarry

#gottakeepinshape

#modelboyfriend

#HaSan4ever

_Gods that was a lame moniker for them,_ Sansa thought. She should have dumped them when she couldn’t come up with a decent one.

Sanrry?

Harran?

_Ugh_, Sansa thought. _They were so obviously NOT meant to be together_. 

Feeling like she'd done enough to please both her fans, Harry and Dany, Sansa uploaded the picture, then cranked her music and lost herself in the pounding of her cross trainers on the pavement. There weren't enough miles in the North to outrun the fact that she was stuck in a shitty relationship, and she had no one to blame but herself.

* * *

Hours later, showered, changed, and a new video uploaded on proper BBQ make-up, hair and wardrobe, Sansa bounced out of her little house and over to the main one to help her family prepare for the event.

She had her hair in a half braid, away from her face but casual and pretty as the rest curled down her back. She'd decided on a pretty floral tank top, jean shorts and flip flops, wearing her bikini underneath. Sansa knew this was summer's last gasp in the North and Rickon would most likely talk her into the pool. It was a beautiful September day.

Her face was flawlessly done, her make-up subtle and pretty and only there to enhance her natural beauty – not to make her look like she was headed to a club or event. Sansa hated overdone make-up on anyone.

It was a look that millions would attempt to copy in the next few weeks as they attended their own casual family BBQs and get-togethers. It made Sansa both proud and happy to have such a following.

Sansa had added twenty-thousand followers since her morning Instagram post, and the biggest question her fans had was what was going on with her and Harry?

Sansa knew if she checked some of the more aggressive gossip columnists, she'd find that they were the hot topic of conversation.

Of course, had she checked those sites, she would have also seen that Harry had been seen at a popular club in King's Landing last night, with no fewer than three pretty women hovering around him. By all accounts, he'd left by himself, though, so the question of his and Sansa's relationship was THE topic of conversation in the capital.

Dany had sent her a quick text with a thumbs up and a _hang in there, babe_ text message.

Dany knew exactly why Sansa was doing this and didn't lecture Sansa, for which Sansa was infinitely grateful for.

She knew most didn't understand her relationship with Harry, but how did she explain that she wanted a great love?

One like her parents, or in the movies she loved.

But she was also scared to risk being vulnerable, so as long as she had Harry, she knew she remained untouchable, and her heart couldn't be broken.

It sounded a bit pathetic, shallow and lame, even to Sansa's own ears, but it had allowed her to concentrate on her career, while not worrying about being chased by men that were out to use her, her name or her company. She knew exactly what Harry wanted from her, and there was no risk of a broken heart with him.

As Sansa walked into the main house, she looked at the organized chaos around her. Her Dad had hired a team of people, thank god, but her mother had a tendency to micro-manage events like this to make sure they were perfect.

Since this was a Stark family tradition, things were well in hand.

Food had been prepped.

Tents had been set up.

Music was blaring, and the pool was open for business.

Sansa knew that her Dad invited a few key members from the team, along with his coaching staff, trainers, and statisticians. Her sister Arya, twenty-three, had taken a job as an assistant trainer this year and was currently kissing her boyfriend, Gendry Waters, another defenceman, by the coolers of beer outside by the pool. Gendry was a year older than Arya and they were adorably cute together. 

Sansa was pleased to see her Mom relaxing underneath an umbrella in a lounge chair.

Rickon, Robb, Jon, Theon, Jory and Tormund were in the pool, an intense game of volleyball happening. Jon's friend, Sam Tarly, was the new stats guy for the Wolves, and he was speaking with Cat, while her Dad and Coach Cassel stood by the grill. Sam was Sansa’s age and she gave him a little wave, as he smiled back at her. 

Ned was looking at his watch as he leaned down and kissed Sansa's cheek.

"Who's missing?" she asked, seeing her Dad glancing around.

"Clegane and Bronn."

Sansa raised her eyebrows at that.

She knew her Dad valued Sandor, but to invite him here? To allow him entry to the Stark family home?

That was practically unheard of.

"Dad, are you sure about Clegane?" Sansa asked, tentatively.

Ned Stark gave her a look.

"He's rough around the edges, San, but there's something there. You should see him with Ric. He's protected him almost from day one. And without being asked. And he hates Ramsay, so that means his instincts are good."

Sansa snorted. As far as she was concerned, if a sane person spent five minutes with Ramsay Bolton, you should dislike him. The man was nasty, evil and mean, and his eyes creeped Sansa out.

"Ok, Dad. It's just…he kind of seems like a jerk."

A snort and snarl had Sansa's face colouring. She knew the moment she turned around, Sandor would be standing behind her. She had no idea why she continued to put her foot in her mouth when it came to this man, but she did.

Ned gave her a look and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"Be nice, Sansa. We don't know his story, but I suspect it isn't a happy one."

Firmly put in her place, Sansa squared her shoulders, put a smile on her face and turned to face Sandor Clegane, chirping out a bright, "Hi."

He rolled his eyes at her and gestured to the beer he brought, and the pointedly ignored her, not even shaking his hand.

Even with his incredible rudeness, Sansa couldn’t help but ogle the man just a bit. He’d chosen a tight black t-shirt, black athletic shorts and black sneakers. His full sleeves of tattoos were on display, muscles rippling, and all Sansa could think was Sandor Clegane had some serious arm porn going on as he gripped the case of beer. A silver flash and she realized he wore a chunky ring on his right hand, something she never would have thought to find on a man like him.

Ned's grin was big as he patted the huge man on the back and then led him away from the grill to give the tour of Winterfell Manor, leaving Sansa standing next to her godfather, Rodrik Cassel.

The man let out a low whistle.

"What did you do to piss him off, San?" As a coach, Cassel loved Clegane. He made their team instantly better.

As Sansa's godfather, he'd rarely seen a man not smitten by her. _This should be interesting_, he thought.

Sansa growled at him and stalked away, determined not to let Sandor Clegane and his lousy attitude ruin this afternoon. She had never met someone who disliked her as instantly as he had. Sandor might have fooled Ric and her Dad but not her. The man was a jerk, and that was all there was to it, and she wouldn't give him another thought.

When Robb and Ric called for her to join their team in the pool, as Bronn had stripped down and jumped in, Sansa didn't even hesitate to peel off her clothes, revealing the tiny red bikini, and joined in the fun.

She had a boyfriend, although that was soon to be over, and she'd sworn never to date a hockey player. She was as safe here, in her parents' home as she was anywhere in Westeros, and she was going to have fun today if it was the last thing she did, Sandor Clegane be damned.

* * *

_Sandor – Winterfell Manor _

Sandor thought his eyes might pop out of his head when Sansa stripped down to nothing but tiny red scraps of fabric that were barely enough to contain one of the best bodies he had ever seen.

Sandor hadn't precisely been celibate in his life. Despite his fucked up face, there had always been more than one woman willing to sleep with him.

His body was one of the best in the business, he was wealthy, and he was a star on the ice. Plenty of women had been willing to look past his face, if only for one night. And Sandor had no problem admitting he'd had many one night stands in those early days of his pro career. Everyone he’d ever hooked up with had always known the score with him – one night, no strings. And the woman he slept with never wanted anything more from him anyway.

Except for twice and Sandor preferred not to think of them at all. They had been unmitigated disasters in his dismal dating history.

Added to that, the parade of hot females that a professional hockey player was exposed to was practically endless. They were everywhere. At the rink, at the hotels, at the restaurants and definitely at the photoshoots that most guys did with some of their sponsors. Being a pro athlete, you had your pick of hundreds of gorgeous women. It was a perk that came with the job.

But damn if he'd never seen anything quite like her.

Sansa Stark was tall, lean, toned, with killer abs, a great ass and the perkiest tits he'd ever seen. If Sandor had a type, she ticked every damn box.

Sandor wondered if he was a drooling mess. He'd completely lost track of what Ned was staying when faced with her in that bikini that ought to be illegal.

Shaking his head and forcing his brain to focus, Sandor slowly turned away from the pool. And Sansa.

Ned Stark was leaning against an impressive outdoor kitchen island, a big stone and wood thing that Sandor thought looked belonged in some magazine spread. The whole house was like that.

Ned was smirking at him. "Ready for the tour?"

Sandor could only nod. His brain was still processing the man’s daughter and he figured as much as Ned seemed to like him, telling the man that his daughter has scrambled his brain cells would not win him any points.

As they made their way through the estate, which was amazing, Sandor knew he probably looked like the poor rink rat he used to be, as his eyes bugged out and mouth dropped open as Ned gave him the tour of Winterfell Manor. The place was one of a kind, and Sandor had no idea how he'd been invited inside these ivory walls. He’d only ever scored an invitation to Casterly Rock after they’d won the championship last year. And that had been for the entire team.

Now they were back outside, beers in hand, and the Coach was assessing him.

"So, Clegane, how do you like the North?" Ned asked, and Sandor scrubbed a hand down his face.

This is what he hated. Small talk. Bullshit answers and ass-kissing. Before he could open his mouth, Ned smirked again.

"The truth, Sandor. I can handle it."

Sandor's eyes widened, and he reassessed Ned Stark. Seeing nothing but openness there, Sandor spoke, honestly.

"I like it. Better than Lannisport. The people are more real up here, and there's more space. A man can hear himself think or lose himself in the woods if he wants." Sandor almost coloured at his answer and didn't know what he'd do if Ned made fun of him. But instead of mocking him, his Coach nodded as if he'd expected that answer.

"And your accommodations?"

Sandor couldn't hide the grimace.

"What?" Ned barked out.

The big man sighed. "Look, I appreciate what you did for me, setting me up there. But fuck, I hate it. It's like living in a fucking fishbowl," Sandor said honestly, and Ned threw his head back and laughed. The penthouse was sleek and modern and soulless. And entirely not to Sandor’s tastes.

"Fair enough. What do you want?"

Sandor cocked his head and thought about it. He'd only ever lived in apartments since he'd been drafted, not ever wanting to commit to owning his own place in case he got traded.

He came from a small town a few hours from Lannisport, and he'd never wanted ever to go back there. Because of that, and how he'd grown up dirt poor and scraping for everything he had, Sandor had been wise with his money. Really fucking wise.

As it was, he had a healthy nest egg in his bank account, significant investments and solid sponsorships deals. Should he have to stop playing hockey tomorrow, he would still never have to work a day in his life as long as he was smart with his money.

"I want a home," Sandor blurted out, then blushed as if embarrassed by the admission.

Ned just nodded.

"Do you trust me, Clegane?"

Sandor nodded slowly. He realized he did. Ned Stark was a straight shooter, as honest as the day was long, and so far, he'd done nothing to fuck him over.

"I do."

Ned grinned and put down his beer. He took out his phone and made two quick calls. Then he looked at Sandor.

"I've got something to show you."

Sandor had to admit; his curiosity was piqued. He glanced around and saw that the party was in full swing, and after Ned dropped a kiss on his wife's lips, he grabbed a set of keys and told Sandor to come with him. Unable to say no, Sandor followed Ned like the dog he was.

Sandor had no idea where Coach was taking him, but he was too curious to question it. Very rarely had anyone ever done anything for Sandor without an ulterior motive.

They got into Ned's truck and backed out of the long driveway, cruising past other multi-million dollar homes in the neighbourhood. Ned Stark had done well for himself. Very, very well. Sandor respected that. And he could admit, he wanted that for himself. Too many guys washed out and fucked it all up, living like they'd be making hockey money their whole life. Sandor knew that his career was finite and damn if he didn't have plans for afterwards. He would never be poor again and wondering where his next meal was coming from.

"There's a place a few blocks away, in from the lake, so the price is much more reasonable than these places out here," Ned was staying. "It was Glover's last year. When he got traded, his wife decided she liked the sun of Dorne better than the cold and snow up here. Been on the market for a couple of weeks and just waiting for the right buyer."

Sandor said nothing, but his heart thumped harder. He'd never owned a home before. Hell, he'd never even committed to a pet, never having anyone else in his life who might be able to help him care for an animal when hockey took him out of town. Was he really ready for this?

The moment Ned pulled up into the long paved driveway, Sandor knew this was it. This was his house.

The house was a huge Craftsman's style one, all log and wood and stone, set far back from the road with plenty of trees and acres of grass. The triple car garage could comfortably house his bike and his sportscar, not to mention the privacy such a place afforded.

"Like it?" Ned asked.

Sandor could only nod.

"Let's go look inside."

Ned's realtor had met them there, opening the big wooden doors to an interior that stole Sandor's breath.

The vaulted ceilings left nothing to the imagination, and somehow, the backyard was even more private than the front. The entire back of the house was glass, offering a view of the yard that was fenced in, with a pool to rival Ned's, a massive deck and grilling area and enough privacy that Sandor could walk around naked, peeing wherever he wanted and not a soul would see him.

In a daze, the perky brunette realtor showed him the rest of the house.

Five bedrooms, six baths. An updated, designer kitchen, an impressive dining room and a huge great room that tied everything together on the main floor and that opened up on to that fantastic back deck. There was also the biggest stone fireplace that he’d ever seen outside of the one at Winterfell, and even though Sandor hated fire, he liked the look of it. There was a spot above the fireplace for a big television, and the couch that was there could comfortably accommodate eight of his teammates, and none of them were small guys.

The house was sleek and modern, but with the use of natural materials throughout, it didn't feel cold or impersonal. Not like the penthouse.

They went upstairs to an impressive master bedroom with a huge ensuite and walk-in closet. The master even had its own deck, overlooking the backyard, and in the distance, Sandor could see the lake. He could imagine himself sitting on the deck, drinking a beer after a game, letting his mind just wander. The peace that such a view brought him was staggering.

Three more impressive sized rooms rounded out the top floor of the house before they went down to the basement.

Here Sandor found a state of the art media room, a games room, a huge personal gym, a wine cellar and one more bedroom with two bathrooms.

When they finally came back to the main floor, Sandor looked at the woman. "How much?"

He cringed only a little at the price she named. He could afford it easily, but he'd never taken a chance quite like this ever before.

"When can I move in?" he asked, knowing he needed this place. Nothing had ever called to him as this house did.

She grinned, knowing this commission would be one for the record books. "End of next week, if all the paperwork is completed."

Sandor nodded. "Done. I'll have my lawyer call you."

She thanked Ned and then ushered them out of the house, Ned grinning like a fool as they drove back to Winterfell.

"Congrats, Captain Clegane," Ned said, beyond happy with what had just happened.

"Captain?"

Ned laughed. "I needed to know you were serious; committed to the Wolves and the North."

As General Manager and the Head Coach, Ned Stark had the final say on the team, including trades and who was his captain.

"And my temper?"

Ned shook his head. "You think I don't see how you protect Ric? Make Tormund better? Keep Ramsay in check?"

"Robb won't like it."

Ned shrugged. "I made a mistake making him captain last year. He was too young."

Even though Sandor agreed, he was a bit shocked to hear Ned admit it. Most people couldn't see their kids for what they truly were.

"Keep him as my assistant," Sandor grunted, and Ned's smile went wider.

"I need you to teach them, Clegane. Robb, Theon, Jon. They're good, but you'll make them better."

Sandor nodded, knowing it was true.

He was a bit stunned to be honest, at how everything was shaping up. Somehow, up here, in the North, he'd found a real team. Now he'd just bought a three million dollar house and was on a first-name basis with his Coach.

He'd earned the Captaincy, which would automatically kick in a bonus for him as part of his contract.

The team was good. Things were good. He was good.

The only fly in the ointment was her.

Sansa Stark.

When they got back to Winterfell, everyone was out of the pool. Sansa had towelled off and pulled on some sort of wrap that emphasized her curves. Sandor wondered if he was drooling, again. 

She was rounding people up to eat, laughing when Theon picked up and carried her towards the grill, doing nothing, in Sandor's opinion, to tell that fucking Greyjoy to keep his hands to himself and off of her.

Sandor had no idea where this dislike for another man touching her came from, but it was there; potent and fucking strong.

Both Bronn and Tormund were looking at him as if they knew that he hated seeing Theon touch her.

_Bronn was smirking, the smug prick_, Sandor thought.

Sandor snarled and stalked away from them to find a beer before he did something stupid like punch Theon in his fucking face and ruin the afternoon.

After getting his beer, Sandor ran straight into Catelyn Stark. Ned's wife.

The woman was a knockout, and Sandor knew where Sansa got her looks from.

"Ma'am," he said, trying to be polite and not listen to Sansa giggling in the background as Jon and Theon teased her.

"Sandor isn't it?" she said, interest sparking in her eyes. "Come and sit with me."

She patted the seat beside the comfortable outdoor couch she sat on, and Sandor wasn't that big of a dick to say no. Not to the Coach’s wife.

Hoping the furniture was sturdier than it looked, Sandor took a seat beside the Stark family matriarch.

They both gazed out at the small group that was starting to eat, Catelyn with a soft look on her face, Sandor with his customary smile.

There was something there on Catelyn Stark’s face that made Sandor take a closer look. Some darker shadow lurking and Sandor got a sinking feeling in his guts. He'd seen that look before.

"What type is it?"

Catelyn hummed and looked at him. "You're a clever one, aren't you? Despite that scowl that chases people away."

Sandor grunted.

"I'll answer your question if you answer mine,” she said, a bit of a teasing note in her voice.

Sandor barked out a short, harsh laugh. He liked Sansa's Mom. She had spirit. And Sandor knew she'd need it if she was going to get through this upcoming battle. Cancer fucking sucked.

"Alright." He crossed his ankles and leaned back, looking directly at her. Very few people would meet his gaze, but Catelyn did. Just like her daughter. _They were strong, these Stark women_, Sandor thought. He liked that.

"Who?"

Sandor met her eyes. "My Mom. Stage 4 pancreatic cancer."

Sandor watched as Catelyn Stark's eyes flashed with sympathy. "How old were you?"

Sandor shook his head and took another swig of beer. "Your answer first."

Cat huffed out a breath and gave him a grimace. "Stage 2, breast cancer."

Sandor nodded. He'd seen enough patients with cancer that he'd recognize the look anywhere. It was universal. Cancer didn't care if you were rich or poor, what colour your skin was, or if you were young or old. It was an indiscriminate killer and tore families apart.

Sandor knew first hand.

"I was eight."

Lost in his memories, Sandor missed the look of pain and sympathy that flashed across Catelyn's face.

He coughed and then added, "She lasted just over six months, and then she was gone."

And his entire world had been destroyed. His father, never a good one, become even worse, and Gregor was completely off his leash. His life was a fucking nightmare for four years after his mom died until he'd been taken in by the Marbrand family. The Dad, Addam, had been a local hockey coach, and had recognized both Sandor's talent and his neglect.

He owed his entire life to Addam and his wife, and Sandor never forgot that it was them that had saved him. He visited them every time he was back in the West, and they often came down to his games in Lannisport. He wondered if he sent them tickets if they’d come North, to watch him play for the wolves. Lord knew he had enough fucking room with his new house he’d just bought.

"Is that why Sansa came home?" Sandor asked when he finally composed himself, dragging himself away from his ugly past and memories that made him want to crawl inside himself and weep.

"Yes. I tried to tell her no, but…" Catelyn's voice trailed off. "She's such a good daughter."

Catelyn gazed at her eldest daughter, who was arguing with Arya about putting mayonnaise on hotdogs.

"She sees the best in people, and she's so smart and good. She had her double masters' degrees by the time she was twenty-three and her own company as well. She's always been mine, Sandor, as much as the others were Ned's."

Sandor looked at the two Stark sisters, who couldn't be more dissimilar. He wondered if his mother had ever spoken about him with so much love in her voice. He hoped so.

And he wondered if he'd, once again, misjudged Sansa Stark.

Here, in Winterfell, she didn't seem like the self-made multi-millionaire make-up mogul she was.

She didn't seem vain or shallow or stuck up.

In fact, she seemed goofy and loveable and down to earth. She had two pretzels hanging out of her mouth and was impersonating a walrus, making Ric and Tormund laugh.

Suddenly a hand clasped his.

"She's a good girl, Sandor. Give her a chance."

And then Catelyn Stark patted his scarred cheek, not even recoiling in horror, before she rose to go and find Ned, leaving Sandor flabbergasted.

Sandor was still reeling from his conversation with her when the seat next to him was suddenly occupied with the one person in the North, he couldn't seem to figure out.

Sansa stuck out her hand, her other one holding a paper plate with a burger and some potato salad.

"Hi. I'm Sansa. I believe we got off on the wrong foot," she said, giving him a tentative smile.

Sandor could practically feel everyone staring at them. He took her hand and shook it, her pale smooth skin looking entirely at odds with his big, rough one.

"Hi. I'm Sandor. Asshole hockey player."

Sansa laughed and took back her hand. "The burgers are good. I promise I didn't spit in them, hoping you'd get that one."

Sandor barked out a harsh little laugh.

"You should eat."

Sandor took another sip of beer.

"The salad is delicious."

He arched his one eyebrow at her. "You like to talk, don't you?"

She grinned and shrugged her shoulders. "So does Ric and you like him."

Sandor shook his head just as he realized he was out of beer. Sansa tucked a long leg up under her butt, showing off miles of skin, and Sandor swallowed.

Hard.

_Boyfriend. She had a boyfriend, his brain yelled at him. _

"You two are always chirping at me," Sandor grumbled. "Like little fucking birds, the two of you."

"Hockey players need to be able to chirp," Sansa responded, not missing a beat. She grinned, and Sandor felt his heart, that long-dead muscle do a slow, thumping roll.

_Holy fucking shit_, he thought.

Sansa Stark in a bikini? Hot as fuck.

Sansa Stark, telling him how to score more goals? Sexy as hell.

Sansa Stark, laughing with her brothers and joking with her family? Charming and down to earth and could draw any man in.

But Sansa Stark, chirping him back? Sandor thought he'd never heard anything better in his life. He loved how she didn't seem intimidated by him.

She cocked her head.

"Friends, Clegane? It's a long season, and I'm not going anywhere."

Now that Sandor knew about her mother, he knew she spoke the truth. He had a feeling when Sansa committed to something she did so 100%. He could respect that.

He nodded.

"Friends."

She gave him a radiant smile and then pushed his huge thigh with her foot. He was mesmerized by the deep purple colour on her toes.

"Now, go get some food before my Mom frets over you. You're huge. I know you must be hungry."

Sandor gave her a look that said he was hungry, alright, but maybe not for burgers. When she blushed, he broke the contact and stood. He took two steps and then turned back to her.

"Sorry for being an asshole," he mumbled. "At the rink."

He could see her bite her lip, trying to hide a smile. "No, you're not."

Sandor laughed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Ok, maybe not right away, I wasn't. But now, today, I am. So sorry."

He shrugged as if to say that was all she was going to get.

She nodded. "Apology accepted."

Sandor nodded and turned to go get some food. Her voice stopped him.

"But Clegane, next time you question my hockey knowledge, I'll have my Dad run a puke practice."

Sandor grinned at her, his first genuine one. She played dirty. He liked it.

"Fair enough, little bird."

Sandor turned and went to find some food, thinking about his strange afternoon.

He'd bought a house, became captain of his new hockey team, opened himself up to his coaches' wife and somehow not fucked up his apology to the coach's smoking hot, super-sexy, intelligent as fuck daughter. That wanted to be his friend.

_Life in the North_, Sandor though, _was nothing like what he planned_. And damn if he didn't find himself like it more than he ever thought possible.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Harry stuff, and Sandor moves in

* * *

_ Sansa _

One week.

It had been one week since Sansa had agreed to continue to date Harry so he could keep his job with Dany.

It had been one week since the Stark family BBQ and the second misunderstanding and subsequent truce with the big D-man, Sandor Clegane.

And it had been a week of hellish chemo appointments with her mother, long evenings going over team video with her father and fun times with Rickon.

Sansa hadn't realized just how much she had missed her family until she was back here. The other night they'd all gathered around and FaceTimed Bran, who was up North, studying computer science. He promised them he was eating the care packages they sent, and that he missed them. And that he'd be home for Thanksgiving. He was twenty-one and living his dream. 

Sansa had watched as her Dad cradled her Mom gently in his arms as she sobbed after they'd hung up. She'd had a lump in her throat as well. Her parents were #relationshipgoals and she was living a giant lie.

Things in her personal life were a disaster, and Sansa sighed as she rested her head against the steering wheel of her car. She'd dropped her Mom off at home and then said she was darting into Wintertown to do some shopping on her own. Even if Catelyn has sensed something wrong with Sansa, she let her go.

In truth, Sansa needed space. Whole bucketloads of space.

She had been handling everything so well she though. Her fake/real boyfriend, her mother's illness, her Dad and his demands, Rickon and his insane energy and her two demanding careers.

She’d spent hours with the COO of her make-up line, Yohn, going over their spring line (yes it was fall, but that's how the beauty industry worked), running numbers and discussing the next ad campaigns. Everything with MiSa was selling well, with their vegan and animal cruelty-free lip stick and lip gloss almost selling out in some places. Sansa was discovering that the mark up on make-up was ridiculous, and the projections for this year blew even her away- and they hadn’t even entered the Christmas season.

But all of that meant more work, more products, more decisions. Sansa knew it was only a matter of time where she would have to hire more staff. And find time to dedicate herself to the new campaigns seriously. So far, she'd done all her own modelling for her make-up, but as she grew bigger and bigger, she wondered if that was the step to take. What she needed was a dedicated public relations person. One she could trust and that she knew had her back. She just had no time to find that person.

Pod, her other employee who managed all her social media accounts, was tracking how she continued to trend upwards across all her social media platforms. He was a few years older than her and a literal godsend these days. 

Her parents' BBQ and the hockey eye candy had helped; Jon, Robb and Theon were glorious camera hogs and posed for endless shots with her. They were handsome, fit and professional athletes. Of course, Sansa's fans had gobbled up those posts wanting more.

Of course, both Bronn and Tormund got in on the action as well, hamming it up in a way that only they could, and Sansa had passed five million followers on IG easily by Tuesday. Five. Million. Followers.

And the was nothing compared to some of her videos. Her BBQ make-up tutorial had gone viral, and she'd added a quick clip from the BBQ with the guys so that one video had well over eight million views.

Professionally her life was a dream.

Dream career, dream earnings, dream schedule.

Personally, her life sucked. A huge giant lemon of suck.

She should have seen it coming. It was such a cliché and so predictable. And so damn like Harry to pull this bullshit on her when she’d only tried to help him out.

Someone had snapped a picture of Harry kissing another woman. A woman that was in no way, shape or form, her. The small, dark-haired woman, who was Sansa’s age, had curves Sansa never would and was grinding on Sansa's boyfriend at the hottest nightclub in King's Landing last night. It had gone viral, of course, making Sansa look like either a liar that they were still together or the poor, cheated on girlfriend.

When Sansa saw the picture, she'd fired off a series of text messages to Harry that asked him what the hell he was doing? She wasn't so much hurt as embarrassed and angry. She was done with Harry but had agreed to keep to their farce of a relationship for him. Now he was making her look like a fool. And that was one thing Sansa would not stand for.

His response?

If she pulled the plug on their relationship before the three weeks was up, he'd go to press with her text messages showing that their whole relationship was a lie. That she was a liar. That all she cared about was her image and not her fans, not her integrity, not her good name. He’d drag her through the mud with him.

He'd phoned her then, careful not to have any of this written down. The idiot didn't even realize Sansa had recorded the conversation.

"How do you think everyone will feel if they find out that the perfect Sansa Stark was just using me?" he snarked into the phone, Sansa's guts twisting in disgust. His voice was low and thick with hatred towards her. And she had been doing him a favour- not the other way around.

It shocked Sansa, to hear that tone from him. She had no idea Harry disliked her so much.

"I'll fucking bury you, San. Two more weeks, and then I want some money, and I'm out of your life."

Sansa had snorted. "You can't be serious?"

"I am. Besides, I see you hanging with those hockey players. You look like a puck bunny San. I can spin this so many ways. Do you really think anyone will believe you if I say you're hooking up them?” His laughter had been cruel.

Before she could even respond, his rant had continued. 

“Gods, it shocked even me that you were a virgin. I mean what chick at twenty-one hasn’t been laid when she lives with that many hockey players?”

Sansa had gasped, her stomach roiling in disgust at the awful words that came out of his mouth. She had only ever been with Harry, barely dating anyone before him. 

"Make no mistake, I want this last two weeks, and my money or I'll finish you."

Harry had hung up then, and Sansa was too numb to do much of anything.

Sansa wanted to cry. To yell. To rage.

But there was nothing to do. She was stuck. She had agreed to this deal, and she knew if he released the text messages she'd sent him, without context, it would look bad. Very bad.

Idly, Sansa wondered how much money Harry would want.

It was how Sansa now found herself parked outside the bar that was next to the arena. It was called, unoriginally,_ The_ _Sin Bin_, a cute nickname for the penalty box. It was a regular hang out for the Wolves players and their wives and girlfriends.

Dragging herself out of her car, Sansa pulled the door open and took a seat at the long bar that took up half the space, not even bothering to look around. She was one of the only people currently inside, not that she cared. She just wanted to lose herself from her Harry problem for a while with a drink. Or five.

A beautiful, tall woman with hair so dark it looked like melted chocolate wandered over, giving Sansa an assessing look.

Sansa checked her watch and saw that it was 3 pm.

_Great_, Sansa thought. _Now she was day drinking — Harry fucking Harding, the boyfriend that kept on giving_.

Sansa looked around the bar and saw that it was mostly empty. She knew this was where the Wolves players came after their games. She'd heard Robb and Jon talk about it often enough, but right now, it was too early for even them. Give it a couple of hours, and she was sure that more than a few of them would be here, filling the booths, playing pool or darts and having a good time.

Unlike her, who was moping, wondering how she had sunk so low as to be with someone like Harry.

_Better than crying_, Sansa thought, bitterly.

The bartender crossed her arms and said, "I don't carry any high-end wines here. Just beer, hard liquor and shots."

Sansa grinned. "I'll have a beer. A red if you have it."

"Bottle or tap."

Sansa waved a hand. "Whatever."

Nodding, the woman grabbed a bottle, popped the lid and slid it to Sansa, who took a long, impressive pull.

"Bad day?"

Sansa snorted, picking at the label with a nail.

"Well, it can only be one of three things. Man, money or job. Which is it?"

The woman, who was seriously stacked and had a pretty tattoo of a flower on one impressive bicep, and an entire sleeve of ink on the other, arched a perfect pierced eyebrow at Sansa.

"Man."

She gave a knowing grin. "It's always a man," and shook her head, heading down the bar to attend to the two other patrons current here - grizzled old guys that were slurping whiskey down like water.

When the bartender came back, she nodded at Sansa.

"Need another one, Ms. Stark?"

Sansa's eyes widened. "How do you know who I am?"

The bartender snorted. "You're Westeros's reigning beauty Queen, a YouTube star, daughter of Ned Stark, and you were two years behind me in school."

Sansa looked closer at the woman standing in front of her and then gasped. It was Dacey Mormont!

"Dacey?"

Dacey grinned and nodded. "Welcome home, Sansa. Sorry about your Mom."

Sansa felt her eyes fill with tears as she nodded. Dacey was Robb's age, and while she and Sansa hadn't been close, Dacey had always been kind to Sansa when they'd been in high school.

"Oh fuck, don't start to cry," Dacey said, worried as she hurried to hand Sansa a glass of water, looking truly appalled at Sansa's tears.

"I'm sorry, I've just made a horrible decision, and I don't know what to do, and if I tell my Dad he'll get involved, and I don't need him to get involved." Sansa's words came tumbling out in a rush as she sniffled, trying to hold back the tears.

Dacey nodded. "Drink the water. I'll order you some food and some support. Give me a few minutes to make some calls."

Sansa sniffed and nodded, sipping at the water, trying to pull herself together.

Within a few minutes, she had food and another beer, and Dacey promised help was on the way.

"Help?" Sansa asked, confused.

Dacey nodded and then grinned when the bar opened, and two more women walked in. Beautiful women, also with dark hair, who looked happy and entirely at ease here in the _Sin Bin_.

Sansa gasped when she realized who it was and then was off her stool, laughing and crying and hugging Jeyne Poole and Wynafryd Manderlay, her two best friends from high school. All three of them were the same age, at twenty-four. 

"Oh my god, you're back!" they cried as they hugged Sansa, and the guilt crashed over Sansa.

She'd lost touch; been a shitty friend when she'd gone to the Riverlands for university. With her company, her channel, her dual degrees and Harry, Sansa had rarely come home in the past few years. And when she had, she'd focused all her attention on her family so that her friendships with those she'd been closest to had died.

Or so she had thought.

Apparently, not if the way they were hugging Sansa and asking about her and her family were any indication.

Sansa's heart filled with gratitude. This was just what she needed. Women that understood her and loved her. Wyn and Jeyne were the same age as her, while Dacey was two years older at twenty-six. 

And Sansa realized, true friendship never died; it just took a little break sometimes when life got in the way.

Sitting there, Sansa vowed to be a better friend to both Wyn and Jeyne and to get to know Dacey better. Suddenly a day that had been total shit was turning around because of these women.

When all three were sitting back at the bar, Dacey gave Sansa a pointed look and then said, "Spill it, Stark."

"Spill what?"

"Your problem," Dacey said, giving her a knowing look.

Sansa sighed and took another sip of her beer and looked at her friends' faces. She saw nothing but love and trust there, and she knew that this was her tribe.

Grateful, she nodded.

"I will, but first, I need to say sorry," Sansa said softly, embarrassment colouring her cheeks as she looked at Jeyne and Wyn.

Wyn waved a pretty manicured hand.

"Sansa, please. We all got busy after high school. Clearly, you've been busy." That was an understatement given just how successful Sansa was.

Jeyne reached out and squeezed Sansa's hand. "San, we've seen what you've built. It's incredible."

Sansa burst into tears again and was instantly cradled in their arms, as the whole shitty Harry story came tumbling out. Three years with him and now this! Sansa was so mad and embarrassed and didn't know what to do.

When she finally finished, Wyn had a grin on her face and a gleam in her eyes.

"What? Why do you look like that?" Sansa asked as Dacey laughed.

"Our Wyn here is what some people call a fixer. She's a PR specialist and her little firm helps fix some of the biggest scandals in the North."

Sansa's mouth dropped open. "Are you serious?"

Wyn nodded and grabbed Sansa's hand. "Trust me, sweetie, we'll fucking bury Harry. Do not give him a cent. Do not talk with him, text him or do anything with him. From now on, you let me handle Harry."

"But what if he goes to the press?"

Wyn snorted. "For what? You not dumping his lazy ass? Him being a soul-sucking leech? I'll destroy him, Sansa. Just let me do my job."

Sansa's face finally broke out into a grin. "Holy hell, you're scary."

"She is," Dacey said, proud as punch at Wyn's fearsome reputation. Then Dacey snorted and flipped a thumb towards Jeyne.

"This one's a lawyer, who in her spare time runs the biggest animal shelter in the North. She regularly goes after those assholes that abuse animals."

"Jeyne, that's amazing," Sansa said, so proud of her friends and their accomplishments.

Jeyne shrugged. "It is, but we are in dire need of funding, or else we'll be shut down."

"Why don't you get the Wolves to come out for one?"

All three women looked at Sansa as if the idea had never occurred to them.

"What?"

"Well, up until now, I didn't think to ask," Jeyne said, taking a sip of beer and looking at Sansa, assessing her. "Would you be willing to ask your Dad?"

Sansa nodded. "I'll do more than ask Jeyne. I'll make it happen. For once, they can use their celebrity for good rather than just picking up women."

Sansa rolled her eyes as she thought about the Wolves and the antics that her brother and his friends got up to. They had gone out, post-family BBQ to the local bars, and not one of them had gone home alone.

Talk between the four women, naturally turned to team, to Robb and Jon and Theon, specifically.

Dacey, who owned the bar, maintained that they were mostly good guys, just immature.

"They're two years older than us," Sansa snorted, shaking her head.

"Heard they got Clegane," Dacey said, looking closely at Sansa as she mentioned his name.

Dacey was as crazy and as knowledgable about hockey as Sansa was, and Clegane was one fine ass man. His tats were legendary around the league, Dacey knew he had a wicked cool bike and if there was ever a man to make her feel small, it was him. The man was a fucking beast, and Dacey had very few occasions to be with men who made her feel dainty.

Usually, Dacey stayed far away from hockey players for good reason, but she'd make an exception for Sandor, the Hound, Clegane.

"They did." Sansa bit her lip and played with the beer bottle again.

"Is he as big as they say?"

Sansa nodded. "He's huge and so built," and then she blushed.

The women pounced, sensing there was something there.

"Ohhh, I think someone has a crush," Jeyne said in a singsong voice, signalling Dacey for another round of drinks.

"There is nothing there. The guy hates me. Or hated me." Sansa's brow furrowed. "I don't know. I think we're in a truce. Or maybe we're friends."

"He's one fine man, except for his face," Dacey said in her typical blunt fashion, wanting to see how Sansa would react.

"Dace!" Wyn said, scolding their friend. "Be nice."

Sansa shot Dacey a look that had the bartender grinning. Sansa clearly felt something for the huge d-man.

_Time to see how much_, Dacey thought.

Sansa was the type of woman that needed a little nudge and Dacey knew it. 

Dacey shrugged.

"It's the truth. That man is tatted, muscled and ripped. I bet he's proportional everywhere if you know what I mean." Dacey wiggled her eyebrows and they all knew what she meant. "I wouldn't mind trying him out, even if it were only for one night."

Sansa squirmed a bit uncomfortably. She knew she had no claim on Sandor. Hell, she was still trying to get out of her relationship with Harry, but she didn't like how Dacey was talking about him - just hooking up with him like that as if he were nothing more than a good lay. Although Sansa knew he had to have women throw themselves at him all the time. Was he like Robb and Jon?

Sansa wasn't blind. The man had the body of a god and the attitude to match. Who didn't love a bad boy? Sansa was sure plenty of women did.

"I think he's handsome, even with his scar," Sansa said quietly, not meeting Dacey's eyes.

If there was anyone suited for Sandor, it was Dacey, not Sansa. They probably went to the same guy for ink. Sansa had never even contemplated a tattoo. She knew she was way too vanilla for someone like Sandor.

"Sounds like he's already spoken for?" Dacey said, giving Sansa a pointed look.

Dacey was unapologetic in owning who she slept with and the choices she made. But one thing she was not was a man stealer. If one of her friends wanted a guy, she was hands-off.

Jeyne laughed and rested her hand on Sansa's back. "Dace is just screwing with you, San. We all saw that look in your eye when you said his name."

Dacey shot Jeyne a look, who gave her one right back. It was clear that Sansa felt something for Sandor.

Sansa sputtered. "I have a boyfriend. A douchy, asshole boyfriend."

All three women looked at her.

"And I don't date hockey players," Sansa said primly.

"So don't date him. Use him. Fuck him. Take that man for a ride," Dacey said, wiggling her eyebrows at Sansa.

Sansa blushed furiously.

"You guys are awful," she said, shaking her head, but loving that she'd reconnected with her friends. They were so open and free and loved who they were. Sansa wanted to be more like them.

As if sensing they wouldn't get anything more out of Sansa by asking about the team, they stopped talking about Sandor and quizzed Sansa on her YouTube channel, make-up, and life in King's Landing.

By the time early evening rolled around, Sansa was well and truly sloshed, and Dacey called Robb to come and pick her up.

When Robb entered the bar, Sansa was hugging Jeyne, promising to get the Wolves involved in saving the animal shelter.

Wyn kissed her cheek and said she'd be by the next day to plan their strategy for Harry, and Dacey told her not to be a stranger.

When Sansa was in his truck, Robb looked over at his sister.

"You ok, San?"

She cracked an eye and looked at her brother. Despite being slightly immature, Robb was a good guy and a sweet brother.

"No, I'm not. I have an asshole boyfriend who is trying to blackmail me, and my lady parts are yelling at me to climb Sandor Clegane like fucking monkey climbs a tree and not let go until said lady parts are well and truly satisfied."

Robb's mouth dropped open. He went to ask her another question, both about Harry and Sandor, but Sansa's soft snore meant she had passed out.

Still, Robb grinned. Despite his surly attitude, Robb liked Clegane. None of them had missed the sparks between Sansa and Sandor at the BBQ. And now his sister, his perfect, overachieving sister, had admitted to liking someone that was so totally different from her they might as well have come from two different planets.

Robb had just come from helping Sandor move into his new place. He had to give the guy credit, he'd picked a beautiful house, and it seemed like he was settling into the North. And wasn't it curious how close Clegane's new home was to Winterfell?

As Robb cruised home, he just had to decide what he was going to do about Harry, and how much of this conversation, he would remind Sansa of in the morning.

He laughed in glee. He had so rarely had anything to hold over his sister's head, but this was gold. Sansa Stark, beauty Queen and make-up mogul, had a crush on Sandor, the Hound, Clegane, the biggest asshole in hockey and all-around bad boy.

If Robb played his cards right, he could hold this over Sansa's head for weeks.

The weirdest part, though, was how not weird it was. For some reason, Robb could almost picture them together.

Then he shook his head, pulled into Winterfell and carried Sansa to bed. She'd have a heavy head tomorrow and most likely no recollection of what she'd told him.

He rubbed his hands together, excited to see the sparks fly between the two of them, and wondering just what his parents might think that Sansa had gone and finally fallen for a bad boy.

* * *

_ Sandor _

Sandor heaved out a tired sigh as he dropped on to the enormous sectional that now occupied his main living room. It had been a brutal week.

True to his word, Ned had posted the first cuts on Monday morning. There had been few surprises, but then, as if to remind the rest of them that they weren't safe, at all, he'd run them through more drills and practices in the past week than Sandor thought possible.

As hard as it was, a part of Sandor fucking loved it. He could feel his body respond to the gruelling schedule, and his already impressive form took on even more definition.

Sandor knew with Coach Stark's program, by the time the regular season started, he'd be in top shape.

It made Sandor excited to have a coach and GM so dedicated to winning, and Sandor left everything on the ice every day.

Outside of hockey, Sandor's lawyer had closed the deal for the house by Wednesday. Thursday, he got the keys and met with a designer. He'd make no attempts to try and decorate such a place by himself. He knew that was well outside his area of expertise and honestly, he just wanted it fucking done. It was one time in his life when he was grateful for his money.

Money made things happen.

Still, even with the designer and her team's help, Sandor had no clue that a house needed so much fucking stuff.

Kitchen stuff.

Bathroom stuff.

Bedroom stuff.

And she wanted it all matched and co-ordinated. By the end, Sandor had just pointed to things he liked and told her to use her judgement. Thank god she had good taste and his house fit him when she was done. Sandor knew she'd been worth every penny of her insane commission when he looked at his home, fully decorated.

Of course, he had his belongings in the penthouse, so after practice on today, Robb, Theon, Jon, Bronn, Rickon and Tormund had helped him move those things over.

Now all he had to do was get used to living here.

He was just taking a sip of beer, alone in his house for the first time all day, when Rickon bounced into the room and handed him a big gift bag.

So, not alone. Not yet.

Sandor wouldn't admit it, but he liked the kid. He was funny. And for some reason, he never shut up about his sister, so even though Sandor hadn't seen Sansa in a week, he knew exactly what she'd been up too. He had to give her credit; if what Rickon said was true, the woman was a workhorse. Between her two businesses, her Mom and what Sandor could only describe as taking care of her family, Sansa Stark never seemed to stop.

It was clear that Ric loved her and chatted about her incessantly. Sandor didn't mind, but he also didn't tell Ric that he might have, MIGHT HAVE taken a look at her YouTube channel.

It was four hours that he was never getting back, not that he wanted them back. He'd gotten sucked in and hadn't been able to stop until his laptop died, and he realized what he'd done. He'd been watching Sansa put make-up on her face, and do her hair for _four fucking hours_.

It had resulted in some fascinating dreams of her. Not that he would tell anyone. Ever.

She was still with Dickhead Harry, Ric's name for the guy, although apparently, it was appropriate if what Rickon said about him was true.

Sandor wondered what on earth someone like her was doing with a guy like that. Sure he might be pretty, but he seemed like a total fucking loser. And one she was helping, which baffled Sandor to no end. How some of these men ended up with amazing women was beyond Sandor.

Sandor had drawn the line at making an Instagram account, even though Ric had bugged him to do it. So far, he'd resisted, only looking at Sansa on her account when Rickon had his app open.

Now, Rickon was here and standing there, looking at Sandor, a dopey grin on his face.

"What the fuck is that?" Sandor asked, eyeing the gift bag suspiciously that Rickon was holding out to him.

"A house warming present," Rickon said, grinning.

Ric loved that Sandor had moved so close to his parents' house. It meant that he could be here often and that his Dad wouldn't worry. For some reason, his Dad liked it when he hung out with Sandor and not Robb and Jon.

"A what?" Sandor said, still wary. "Did you say a fucking present?" Sandor didn't know what to do.

Rickon shoved it in his hands and flopped down beside Sandor on the couch.

"Yeah, Cap. A present. You know, like Christmas, birthdays. House warming." Rickon winked at him as Sandor curled his lip.

Rickon was trying not to smile at his friend. From what he could tell, Sandor had a rough childhood, nothing like his, and he wondered if Sandor had ever gotten a present before.

Ric didn't know why they got along so well, just that he liked Sandor and that Sandor didn't treat him like an idiot rookie. And Sandor let him hang out with him, even though he bitched about it.

Sandor finally put his beer down and opened the bag, his frown deepening when he pulled out a new Xbox One.

"What the fuck is it?"

Rickon's mouth dropped open. "A game counsel man. I'll hook you up, and then we can play online."

Sandor looked stunned.

Rickon rolled right over him, unpacking the game system, hooking it up and making a profile for Sandor online. Somehow, he weaselled Sandor's credit card info out of him, and Sandor Clegane was now online with his shiny new account and Xbox live gold membership and several 'friends.'

"A bunch of the other guys from the team are on here as well. The Karstark twins, Umber, Greyjoy. Even Bronn."

Sandor grunted, watching as Ric pressed more buttons than he could keep up with. Then Rickon flashed him a grin. "They even have the game Westeros Hockey League 2020."

Sandor thought that name sounded vaguely familiar.

"Seriously, dude. You were on the fucking cover!" Rickon said, shaking his head at Sandor.

Sandor shrugged. He couldn't care less about video games.

"K, I'm downloading it for you now. It's like a major honour, Sandor, to be picked for the cover. Once I download it, we can play online." Rickon reached down and pulled out some serious looking headphones out of the bag and handed them to Sandor, who just stared at them.

"What the fuck are they for?"

"So we can talk to each other," Rickon said by way of explanation, shaking his head.

Then he went on to download all the games he liked, as well as signed Sandor into his Netflix and Prime accounts. Hours later, when Rickon stood to leave, he patted Sandor on the back.

"You're all set, man." Rickon looked around the house.

"This is one sweet set up," Ric said, shaking his head and grinning. "See you at practice tomorrow."

Sandor stood and walked Rickon to the door, thanking him, gruffly and watching the kid hop into his truck.

_Fuck those Starks loved their trucks_, Sandor thought to himself, as Rickon honked his horn and waved, backing down the driveway. Then the rookie was gone, and Sandor was left all alone in his house.

His house.

It was an odd yet satisfying feeling. He wandered through it, touching different things, cleaning up the bottles and boxes of pizzas the guys had devoured. Sandor might look like a badass biker, but he was neat, and he hated a mess anywhere in his life.

When his kitchen was set to rights, he opened the fridge and smiled. He'd need to do groceries, stock up on shit he liked. Sandor was a decent cook, and he found it relaxing. And his body needed fuel. Lots and lots of fuel. Now this space was all his, and he had room for all his favourites. He’d never had such space and Sandor was stoked for it.

On his way up to his room, he stopped in front of his TV, grinning at the black consul that was just sitting there. When did Ric ever think he was going to take the time to learn to play that?

Still, the kid was thoughtful as fuck, and it was clear he thought of them as friends. Sandor didn't have too many friends, so it wasn't like he was going to try to run this one-off.

Flicking off the light in the main room, Sandor took the stairs two at a time to his bedroom. Once there, he didn't even spare a glance at the California King bed, piled high with a down comforter and too many pillows. The room was so huge that the bed almost looked normal-sized, even though it was the biggest one on the market. He needed it for his massive frame.

Instead, he pushed open the doors to his balcony and gazed towards the lake; towards Winterfell. Towards her. He had no idea where she might be, tonight, on a Saturday night. She was probably out with friends or at a bar. Sandor knew that her relationship with Harry was on shaky ground, and a woman like her wouldn't be single for long.

He knew he was an idiot to even think about her like that.

Sansa, even without a boyfriend, was out of his league. He'd watched video after video of her, and he knew she wasn't the vain, shallow woman he'd assumed. She seemed to get real joy out of interacting with her fans and giving them tips and advice.

She was a bit self-deprecating about her own looks, or when she messed something up. It made her more human, and Sandor thought she was adorable but totally ridiculous. She was the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Sandor stripped down and went to shower. He'd lose nothing but his heart and pride and his fucking head if he pursued anything with her.

Just because he'd bought a house four blocks away from her parents' mansion, didn't mean he had any right to think about her that way. He'd only be flirting with heartache if he tried to move her anywhere out of the friend zone.

Dogs like him didn't get the princess. This wasn't a fucking fairy tale. It was real life. Where Moms got cancer, and eight year old's got beat, and people that shouldn't fucking die, did.

Sandor wouldn't delude himself into something that was not meant to be. He already had more than he ever thought possible, and it wouldn't do him any good to reach for more.

Still, that night when he crawled into bed, Sandor couldn't help but wonder what Sansa would think about his house. He hadn't realized he'd unknowingly picked things out that he thought she might like until he was lying there. He justified it by telling himself he wanted her to feel comfortable here. If she ever came here. On the off chance that she did.

"Fuck, you're a dumb dog," he muttered to himself, trying to force her from his thoughts and himself into sleep.

He had two weeks before pre-season started, and a team to whip into shape. He had no time to think about Sansa Stark and how she'd never like a man like him.

No time at all.

Sansa Stark was not meant for a man like Sandor Clegane, and Sandor knew that better than anyone. She was his friend, and that was all.

If he dreamed of red hair and blue eyes, well, that was his problem and one he'd gladly keep to himself.

No one had to know that with Sansa, Sandor could see a whole life, something like what Coach Stark had made for himself. A wife, kids, a team – a community. Sandor had never really been part of anything like that, beyond hockey, and wouldn't even know how to go about getting it if he could articulate that he wanted it.

A chirp from his phone had him reaching for it. Ever since he’d started hanging around Rickon he’d kept it close. The rookie was always texting him or sending him some funny joke.

When Sandor saw who the message was from his heart just about stopped. Then Sandor grinned at his phone, like the idiot he was. Fuck he had barely talked to this woman and she had him whipped.

**Sansa**: Hey, you awake?

**Sandor**: Yeah

**Sansa**: Heard you moved in today

**Sandor**: I did. Your brothers helped

**Sansa**: That's good. They have strong backs

**Sandor**: I thought you'd be out. It's Saturday night

**Sansa**: Oh, gods. I was. Don't even ask. Is it possible to be hungover at 11 pm?

**Sandor**: LOL. That bad?

**Sansa**: Yup. My girlfriends are jerks.

**Sandor**: Sounds like fun

**Sansa**: You know, it was nice. I'd lost touch with them, and tonight we reconnected.

**Sandor**: I'm happy for you, Sansa.

**Sansa**: Thanks, Sandor. K, I'm off to chug a bottle of water and chew some pain meds. Happy moving day, Sandor!

**Sandor**: Get some rest, little bird

**Sansa**: Little bird… I like it

**Sandor**: Bet you do. Rest now

**Sansa**: Bossy

**Sandor**: I'm not going to reply anymore, and you can't call me a jerk. Sleep Sansa.

**Sansa**: 🥺 what happened to little bird?

**Sandor**: Oh, for fuck, sakes, good night, little bird 🐦

**Sansa**: OMG!!!!! You used an emoji, Sandor!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

**Sandor**: Jesus Christ, I’m going to sleep

**Sansa**: LOL. Night Sandor 😘

Sandor did not go to sleep. Sandor stared at his phone for an hour. Thinking of Sansa Stark.

When sleep finally claimed him, a half-smile was on his broken face and a feeling of peace as if he'd finally found his place, after years of searching settled over him. He was home, in all the ways that counted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> Another unplanned bar night, some true SanSan and the Wintertown Animal Shelter Fundraiser event.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fun interactions, and the fundraiser

_ Sansa  _

Sansa grinned into her mirror as she got ready for the first annual Wintertown Wolves fundraiser for the local animal shelter. It was taking place in a park in downtown Wintertown on this sunny Sunday afternoon, and they were hoping to not only raise enough money to keep the shelter going, but also to match a whole bunch of animals with new owners today.

She'd decided on slim, black capri pants, a blue and silver Wolves t-shirt and black converse sneakers. She'd left her blonde hair down and brushed the lightest coating of make-up across her face, documenting everything for her channel and uploading the tutorial. She'd also taken a few selfies and put them on her account, with the hashtags:

#savethepets

#adopotapet

#wintertownwolvesfundraiser

#ilovedogs

_That last hashtag could have more than one meaning,_ Sansa thought, giggling to herself, thinking about her night at Dacey’s bar. And her text messages with Sandor.

Her Dad had given both her and her Mom Sandor’s number since Ric seemed to hang out with him so much. Although, Sansa wondered if her Dad had an ulterior motive. It was odd how much he liked the surly defenceman.

And it was amazing the difference a week could make.

This past one had been so awesome, as Sansa thought back to how much her life had changed in such a short time. Changed since she’d reconnected with her friends at Dacey’s bar last weekend and since she’d started to admit she was intrigued by Sandor.

True to her word, Wyn had shown up last Sunday morning at Sansa's house, after their drink fest and sat down and made Sansa spill everything about Harry and their relationship. Again and again and in great detail.

“The last thing I need is a surprise, San. I can’t help you if you keep things from me.”

Sansa told her everything. She wanted Harry gone and out of her life.

Then she'd taken over Sansa's phone, downloading all her text messages, emails and voice calls with Harry. Finally, she'd been in touch with Pod, and demanded every social media mention of Harry in Sansa's accounts. Pod scrambled to comply, a little in awe of Wyn and how she barked out orders to him.

"Don't worry, San. We'll make Harry go away."

"When?" Sansa said, worrying her lip. She just wanted to be done with him. Him and his sleazy, manipulative ways.

"Give him a few more days to hang himself. Part of what your Dad had you both sign, in addition to the prenups, was a fairly binding non-disclosure agreement."

"Really? But then how can I post all these pictures with him in them if we have NDAs?"

Wyn grinned. "The clause in the paperwork was pretty smart if I do say so myself.” That’s when Sansa knew her friends had been looking out for her long before she came back North.

"Jeyne and I made it so as long as you were both happy, in love and being supportive of one another, there was no harm in mentioning each other in your posts, name dropping or tagging each other on social media. But the moment things went bad, then you'd both walk away and issue a statement like ‘break up due to irreconcilable differences’."

Sansa's mouth dropped open. "Seriously?"

She didn't have to tell Wyn that she had never been 'in love' with Harry. Not even a little bit.

Wyn nodded. "Yup. Your Dad didn't trust Harry at all. He wanted to protect you, but still, give you the freedom to live your life."

"So, what you're saying is that if Harry…"

"What I'm saying is that the moment Harry threatened you, Sansa, he broke part of the agreement. Yes, he hasn't taken anything public yet, but the very fact that he threatened you and is trying to extort you for money goes beyond breaking a mere NDA. The guy could be facing charges. Extortion charges."

Sansa swallowed hard and nodded. "I see."

"Sansa, let me ask you straight out - do you want to be with Harry?"

Sansa shook her head. "Gods no. And now? Those pictures with that other woman? He's making me look so bad, Wyn. I only stayed because I felt bad for him."

Wyn nodded. "Then let Jeyne and I take care of things with Harry, and at the same time, my people will have your reputation back to sparkling in no time. Although I have to admit, you do a pretty good job of it yourself."

Sansa had been overjoyed with the meeting and had felt a huge weight lift from her shoulders. True to her word, by Thursday, things with Harry were done. Quietly.

They had all agreed, with Dany's permission, that Sansa wouldn't announce their official split for another ten days to give him time to finish his contract with her.

And Harry had avoided, just barely, facing charges on extortion, since the lawyer that his Uncle Petyr had hired argued that he was just upset over losing the love of his life and didn't really mean he needed monetary compensation.

Sansa snorted when Wyn had told her that. Harry and she had never been in love. Ever. He was lying but Sansa just wanted it done.

All in all, though, Sansa was relieved. And grateful to be done with that bad relationship. Her girlfriends kicked ass.

That was how she found herself at the _Sin Bin_ on Friday night, flanked by Jeyne and Wyn, celebrating as Dacey poured them all shots.

"So, the loser is gone?" Dacey asked, eyeing Sansa, who was wearing skinny jeans and a sexy little shimmery top that showed a decent amount of cleavage.

Dacey approved.

"Yup. Thanks to these two amazing women," she said, giggling at her friends.

"Us amazing? San in one week, you've organized a massive fundraiser for the animal shelter. I mean, it's all anyone can talk about in Wintertown. I owe you. The pets owe you," Jeyne said, happier than ever to have her friend back in her life. Her and Sansa had been best friends since they were in grade school, and Jeyne had missed her when she'd gone south for university.

"Here's to being kick-ass women," Wyn said, holding up another shot, and all four cheered and drank to that.

"Here's to supporting kiss ass women," Sansa said, loving how empowered she felt.

Jeyne, Sansa and Wyn then moved off the bar stools, beers in hand to grab a booth before the bar became too busy. They had so much to catch up on, and Sansa was eager to know everything she had missed in her friends' lives.

The three of them were so deep into their catch up discussion about their lives that Sansa didn't even see when some of the Wolves players walked in.

It wasn't until Robb, Theon and Jon were standing there, grinning at the three of them, that Sansa realized the bar had been taken over by the hockey team.

She couldn't fault them; this place was kind of a haven for them. Dacey kept as many as the bunnies out as possible, and the guys were mostly free to be themselves here. Almost no one bugged them for an autograph or picture, so they could just hang out and be normal for the most part.

Seeing Robb, Theon and Jon, Sansa looked behind them, wondering if Sandor was coming.

She had thought more than she wanted to admit about last Sunday morning when she’d woken up hungover and saw her text messages with him.

With Sandor, the Hound, Clegane.

Gods, she'd been bold, pouting and making him use that adorable nickname he had for her. Her heart had given a funny little thump seeing his name there.

Unfortunately, since then, Sansa had been so busy she'd barely spoken with Sandor- just a quick text message here and there to see how practices were and how he was settling into his new house. Between her Mom's treatments and this fundraiser, plus her work, she'd been working eighteen-hour days. And she knew he was busier than ever with the Wolves.

Still, each night they asked how each other’s day was, and it was nice. More than nice, Sansa knew. She felt important and like someone cared about her. And she hoped that Sandor felt the same way. She liked how much he seemed to be happy here in the North.

"Hello ladies," Jon said, giving the three of them that panty-dropping smirk Sansa knew worked on far too many women. Both Wyn and Jeyne smiled back. Thankfully she was immune.

Sansa rolled her eyes at Jon.

Not too be outdone, Theon winked at them, flirting shamelessly as Sansa scanned the bar. She did not need to watch Jon and Theon try and pick up her friends.

"Looking for someone, San?" Robb asked, drinking his beer and wiggling his eyebrows at his sister.

Her eyes narrowed on him. "No. Why?"

"Not looking for someone you'd like to climb like a monkey climbs a tree?" Robb had a huge shit-eating grin on his face as he looked at her.

_He knew something!_ Sansa thought.

Sansa excused herself from her friends, and grabbed Robb by the arm, dragging him to a dark corner of the bar.

"What do you know?" she asked, glaring at him.

He laughed, and she twisted his ear, making him yelp.

"Jesus, San, easy."

She let him go and he rubbed at his ear.

"Out with it, Robb."

He grinned again and then leaned down and whispered, "Don't look now, sister, but Clegane just entered the bar."

Sansa had to use all her willpower not to turn and look at Sandor. She needed to know what Robb thought he knew.

Because Sansa didn't even know what she felt, but she sure as hell didn't need Robb's interference in her love life.

"What. Do. You. Know. Robert. Eddard. Stark?" Sansa whisper-snarled at him.

"Just that someone has a crush on the Hound," Robb said, winking at her and Sansa's face flamed red.

"And how do you know this?"

"Because you told me, sister. Last Saturday night. Drunk little Ms. Perfect revealed who she wants to bone," Robb said, his grin huge. He'd been waiting for years for his sister to fall for a hockey player. Who knew it'd be Clegane?

"It doesn't matter. He can barely stand me," Sansa said, waving a hand.

That made Robb frown.

"San, the guy has been glancing over here since the moment he walked in. In fact, I'm pretty sure the only reason he's here tonight is that I said you were coming with your girlfriends."

"Oh," Sansa said, hope in her eyes."Are you sure?"

Robb nodded, taking another drink of his beer. "Sansa, the guy doesn't chase women, not like some of us. He's a solid dude. I mean, a bit rough, and he's got a mouth on him, but he's an ok guy."

Just as he finished speaking, Robb frowned. "Ummm, San, does Dacey like him?"

Sansa was unable to stop herself from turning around and staring, watching as Dacey sauntered up to Sandor and laid a hand on his arm.

Sansa felt thick, hot jealousy curl through her entire body. Dacey knew that Sansa had a thing for Sandor. _What was she doing?_

Striding away from Robb, not even thinking of what she would do when she got to them, Sansa crossed the bar floor to stand next to Sandor, reaching him just as Dacey was complimenting him on his ink.

If Sansa hadn't been so pissed at Dacey, she would have noticed that Sandor was barely looking at the stacked bartender and instead was staring at Sansa.

"Dacey," Sansa hissed as Dacey grinned at her.

"Sansa. Sandor, will you excuse us for a moment," Dacey said. 

Sandor barely had time to agree when Dacey grabbed Sansa by the arm and dragged her behind the bar.

"Cool it, sister. I was doing you a solid. That man has eyes only for you, San."

Sansa felt all her jealousy and rage disappear as Dacey's words penetrated the fog of some other woman touching Sandor.

"Really?" she said, looking at Dacey and then back at Sandor, who has an amused smirk on his face as he looked at the two of them.

Dacey grabbed two bottles of beer, popped the caps and handed them to Sansa.

"Go be with your guy, Sansa. You've got nothing to worry about. He wouldn't look twice at me even if I was naked- not as long as you're around."

There was more than a bit of envy in Dacey’s voice. Not that she didn’t have a shot with Sandor per se, just that no one had ever looked at her like Sandor was at Sansa.

Sansa blushed. "Well, I don't know about that. You've got great tits, Dace."

Dacey threw her head back and laughed. "That I do. But I see your brother glaring at me, so apparently, I have to go sooth Prince Robb's massive fucking ego."

Dacey rolled her eyes, leaving Sansa to deal with Sandor.

Sansa took the two beers and gave him a small smile as she walked up to him, handing him one.

"Hi," she said, a bit nervously. "Umm, sorry about that."

Sandor's grin got wider. "Problem?"

"Nope."

"Uh, huh," he said, taking a long pull of beer, giving Sansa a minute to admire him. The gesture pulled his shirt up, so a sliver of hard, hairy male stomach was visible before it was gone again. Sansa wondered if she was drooling as she checked out the rest of him.

He was in his typical outfit of tight t-shirt, this one soft black, dark jeans, biker boots and a leather jacket. Tonight he had a chunky silver chain at his wrist and around his neck. His ink poked through at odd little spots, around his wrists and down his neck as he drank his beer.

Sansa's body hummed in pleasure at the sight of him. Clearly she was being told loud and clear what type of man did it for her. And shockingly enough, it wasn’t a pretty boy.

"Cause it sort of looked to me like the two of you were sorting things out when it came to me," Sandor said, still smirking.

Sansa realized she'd just been staring at him, not paying any attention to what he was 

"Well, we were just talking. Not everything is about your, Sandor," she said primly.

"So you were just…talking," Sandor said, eyeing her up, a skeptical look on his face.

"Just talking." Sansa agreed lips pursed, not saying anything else.

"Alright, little bird, we'll do this your way," Sandor said and then glanced around the bar. He spotted Theon and Jon with two dark-haired women, and Sansa started walking that way.

"Come join us," she said, tugging on his arm. A very solid, very thick arm. Sansa’s blood hummed.

When they got to the booth, Sansa somehow found room for him to fit his massive frame into the booth beside her.

Right beside her.

Sansa could smell him; that’s how close he was sitting to her, and he smelled amazing. Woodsy and maybe a little engine oil from his bike, and a little bit of aftershave and just musk.

Sandor Clegane smelled like a man and freak that she was, Sansa just sat there sniffing him. Subtly, of course.

His body was huge and warm, and she was pressed up beside him, lost in how big he was. She realized she felt safe with Sandor by her side when there was suddenly a toast.

"Ummm, sorry, what are we toasting?" Sansa said, having been thoroughly distracted by Sandor.

She felt Sandor's amused eyes on her and hoped he hadn't caught her smelling him. She'd be mortified.

"The end of your relationship," Jeyne cried.

"To kicking Harry the Horrid to the curb," Wyn added, and both Theon and Jon cheered and then drank to that. Sansa could feel Sandor's questioning eyes boring into her.

Sansa made the mistake of turning and looking at Sandor, her blue eyes meeting his grey ones and was swept up into a world that was just them.

In a low voice, he leaned down and spoke directly into her ear. "It is true? You're single now?”

She nodded and swallowed hard. "Yup. Long overdue."

He grunted and took another sip of beer.

They sat there, both quiet, and let the others carry the conversation, each lost in their thoughts. Another round of beer and shots came, although Sansa switched to diet soda and she started to join in the conversation, careful to include Sandor when she could.

He seemed content to sit back and listen to them; all five of them had grown up together so the banter and snark was on point.

When Robb joined them, it got interesting. He was complaining about Dacey, loudly, who was flirting with a group of university guys, all in their mid twenties, that had come to the bar and shooting her looks that were both filled with longing and jealousy.

A light bulb went off in Sansa's brain just as Sandor leaned down and whispered in her ear.

"He likes her."

Sansa grinned and turned, so their faces were close. "He does."

They both look back at Dacey, who was flirting even harder now, as Robb scowled at her. It was hard to look away. Dacey was an impressively beautiful woman and supremely confident in herself and her choices in life.

"Do you like her?" Sansa asked suddenly, voice low and unsure. She had been quite presumptuous to think that Sandor had wanted to sit with her.

She felt Sandor startle, and then his big hand closed over hers, underneath the table. He squeezed it once and then let it go, but Sansa felt the impact of it long after it was gone.

The others were too drunk and busy with each other to notice them.

"No, little bird, I don't like her." His eyes seemed to hold a deeper meaning, but Sansa couldn't quite figure it out. Not here, in this crowded and noisy bar, when they were not alone.

Sansa nodded. "Good."

Sandor nodded back. "It is good, little bird."

Sansa's heartbeat fluttered faster as he used her nickname, twice!

Little bird, said in that deep, growly voice. She felt flushed all over. She held Sandor's gaze just a bit too long to be proper and then took a sip of her soda, hoping it would cool her down.

It did not.

As one, they turned back to their friends, as if they had both come too close to a big line and didn't want to tip over it- not here. The uncertainty felt delicious and Sansa hugged that feeling to herself, as her friends got slowly tipsier and she finally had to drive them home, having stopped drinking hours earlier. Two hungover weekends in a row was not what Sansa needed.

When she left with a thoroughly drunk Wyn and Jeyne, Sandor had leaned down, quickly, putting his hand on her back and whispering that he’d see her on Sunday at the fundraiser.

Sansa hadn't seen or spoken to Sandor for the rest of the weekend, but he'd promised he'd be at the park today. Which, if Sansa were completely honest, meant she'd spent extra time getting ready. She had no idea what was going on between her and Sandor, but it felt like something.

Something big.

Something good.

She was excited to figure it out, now that Harry was in the past.

Her only concern and she still felt it was a valid one, was his status as one of the premier, all-star hockey players in the league. Sansa knew what type of life those guys lived; she knew Sandor was dedicated to his sport.

Did he have time for a woman in his life?

Did he even want a woman in his life?

Maybe she was too presumptuous. After all, two weeks ago, Sansa would have sworn they hated each other. Then came their truce. Then her drunk text. And then the bar.

In between, they'd sent each other a few messages, but nothing that could be construed as more than friends. 

The only thing that Sansa had to go off of was Dacey and Robb's statements. And who knew about those two?

Sansa had watched as Robb spent the remainder of Friday night flirting with anything with breasts, and Sansa swore she'd caught a flash of hurt on Dacey's face. Thank god Robb had left the bar by himself. Sansa thought he was an idiot. It was clear he liked Dacey, and she wasn't the type of woman to put up with his bullshit for too long.

A knock on her door let Sansa know that Ric was there. He was driving her to the fundraiser, and he walked right into her house a few moments later.

"Ready San?" he said, grinning at her t-shirt.

"Ready, Ricrock."

"This is going to be great," her little brother was saying, bouncing excitedly.

It had been a few years since the Starks had dogs. There last two, Lady and Shaggy had been old and the last of their litter mates when they'd passed away peacefully within a week of one another. With only Ric home, Ned and Cat had decided against getting more pets, and Sansa knew that Ric missed having a one.

"I'm trying to convince Sandor to get a dog, but he says he has no one to look after it when he's out of town," Ric kept speaking, shooting Sansa an imploring look.

She laughed. "Nope. Don't try to rope me into that, Rickon Stark."

Rickon pouted.

“And don’t pressure Sandor into anything Ric. The poor guy just moved. Maybe he doesn’t want a dog.”

Rickon snorted, cruising into downtown Wintertown, deftly parking his truck. He had his Wolves jersey on and Sansa knew it was the first public appearance for him. She could see the nerves radiating off of him.

“Ready sis?” Ric said and Sansa nodded.

Without saying a word, her eyes told him she’d be by his side if he needed it.

“Ready Ricrock.”

“Thanks, sis.”

"Alway, Ric." 

They smiled at each other, knowing the words were true. They were Starks. They were a pack. Family first, always. 

The crowd was already sizeable and Sansa knew Jeyne could use her help.

“Let’s go meet some dogs!” Sansa said, smiling and linking arms with her brother, hoping Sandor would find her in the crush of people that had shown up for the event.

* * *

_ Sandor_

Sandor pulled his jersey over his head, adjusting it so that it sat comfortably over his t-shirt. He wore distressed blue jeans, his biker boots and now his Wolves jersey. He always got a jolt seeing his name on the back of it. It was odd; for so long, he'd hated being a Clegane. Hated his Dad, fucking hated his brother. Didn't even think about his sister or Mom because that was just pain and misery.

But when he'd inked his first pro contract, Addam had found him alone, and a mess when they'd given him his first sweater.

"What's the problem, son?"

Sandor had been choked up, clutching at the black and golden Lions jersey as if were both his greatest hope and biggest fear all rolled into one.

"I hate my name," Sandor whispered, shame at who his family was creeping through his body. He was eighteen years old and hadn’t seen or spoken to his Dad or brother in six years.

Addam laid a hand on his shoulder. "Fair enough. I won't tell you not to. Your father didn't do right by you, Sandor."

Sandor nodded, liking how Addam had a way of understanding him when few others did.

"But it was also your Mom's name, wasn't it?"

And that was the heart of the matter. Sandor loved his Mom.

"I think she'd be proud, to see her son, and all that he's accomplished," Addam said, rising and leaving Sandor on his own, giving him space and privacy to process it all.

No one knew he'd chosen the number 8 because that was the last sort of happy year in his life. He'd never told a soul, not even Addam and his wife.

Now Sandor wondered if there was any chance that Sansa might one day wear his jersey. Sandor knew that all sorts of WAGs (wives and girlfriends) of the players did and he thought that might be the coolest thing ever, to look up and see her in the stands, his name and number on her back. He'd never had that before, other than Addam.

As Sandor palmed his keys to his bike, he also wondered how today would go down. He could admit to being nervous about seeing Sansa again.

He'd been shocked at how much time he'd spent with Sansa at the bar on Friday night. He usually avoided places like that like the plague. But when Robb had casually mentioned she'd be there with her friends, Sandor couldn't stay away. He knew he needed to see her.

Surprisingly, he’d been greeted warmly by the bartender when he’d entered. He knew something had gone down between Sansa and the hot bartender, even if Sansa said nothing was amiss. He wasn't a total idiot to miss the look in Dacey Mormont's eyes when she'd approached him. Sandor had seen it his whole adult life; women who liked his body and his ink.

Still, the moment Sansa had appeared, Dacey had backed off. It was a good thing, too, because next to Sansa, Dacey barely registered for him.

Sandor also liked how he and Sansa texted each night up until the bar night. Sandor knew she was crazy busy with her family and her business, but it felt good that she carved a little space out for him. 

A few times, Rickon had stopped by his place after practice and laughed his ass off as Sandor tried to figure out how to play that blasted hockey game Ric had downloaded.

Of course, Rickon hadn't said a damn word about her dumping Harry, so when Sandor had found that out on Friday night, it had taken every bit of his willpower not to haul her out of the bar and somewhere decidedly more private and demand all the details. 

He'd almost held her hand when he'd squeezed it, those big blue eyes asking him worriedly if he was interested in Dacey.

He'd just about spit his beer out at that thought! There was only one woman that was occupying far too many of his waking hours, and it was NOT Dacey Mormont.

Now here he was, cruising into Wintertown, a beautiful fall day, to lend his star status to a cause near and dear to Sansa and her friends. And he wasn’t even a miserable bastard at the thought of such a public appearance.

Sandor loved that they seemed so passionate about helping animals.

He knew what it was like to be beaten, starved, and scared. To fight and scrape for everything – including enough food to live. To not receive love from those who were supposed to love you. Instead of love to only get a hard hit or a smack of a hand. Or worse.

Sandor hated people that abused the weak; children, the elderly, or animals. Anyone who couldn't fight back. It made his blood boil.

So if there was any cause that he was willing to participate in, willing to have people gawk at him, it was this one.

Just as Sandor roared up to the parking lot and killed his engine, his phone chimed, and he glanced down to see Rickon's text that they were here. Sandor stored his helmet on his bike, not even looking at the second one he'd brought, just in case. He would make no presumptions that Sansa might want to go for a ride after this event. For all he knew, she and her friends had something else planned. The second helmet was just a hope and probably a stupid one at that.

The park was packed, and Sandor hoped that meant they'd raise the funds they needed this afternoon. He'd already written a cheque for twenty-five grand to give to Jeyne when no one else was looking. He didn't mind being philanthropic; he just didn't need anyone making a big fucking deal about it. It wasn’t why he chose to give the money.

**Ric**: At the main tent. Come find us. I think San is looking for you.

Sandor couldn't help the half-smile that spread across his face at that thought. Sansa Stark was looking for him.

Even though the crowd was thick, things were well organized and under control.

There was an agility ring where Jeyne and Sansa had organized the local club to do some demonstrations, tonnes of vendors selling everything from leashes to custom made dog sweaters, to organic treats.

There were cooling stations for the dogs and some of those bouncy house things for the kids. A local band was cranking out the tunes, and Sandor saw more than one food truck making a killing as pets, people and the Wintertown Wolves hockey team all mingled together.

There were face painters and booths to sign up for obedience classes and something called Puppy Kindergarten. Sandor didn’t even know that was a thing, but apparently, it was.

Sandor had to admit, he was impressed. Sansa had pulled it off. He’d listened on Friday night how her friend Jeyne had gushed at all the work Sansa had done for this fundraiser. It just added to what Sandor already knew; Sansa was an impressive woman.

As he worked his way through the crowd, people parted easily, whispering and pointing at him. He knew it was partially his size, his star hockey player status and maybe a bit because of his face. He'd learned to block it out for the most part. He knew when he was on the ice, people fucking loved him.

He finally saw the big white tent where Sansa and her friends held court.

It was all he could think of; she was a god damn Queen, and they were all her willing subjects.

She had a loudspeaker, standing on a chair, and was encouraging people to come and meet the dogs, cats, bunnies, and other assorted animals they had for adoption.

"And don't forget to say hi to the Wintertown Wolves hockey team! Get their autograph or pose for a picture," she said brightly as Theon, Bronn, Jon and Robb all hammed it up. Each one had some type of pet in their arms, and the lineup to see both hockey players and the furry ones was long. 

Tormund was there, making a group of women laugh, while not to be outdone, Jon Umber was enthralling a group of boys with some tale from the ice.

Gendry and Arya were in a deep conversation with a family of five that were holding onto a wiggling lab cross puppy who looked like he'd just won the lottery.

Coach was there as well, smiling and shaking hands with the Mayor, while the Karstark brothers were all taking pictures with a line of fans that had formed. Rickon was bouncing between groups, looking like the rookie he was. The only person from the team that Sandor didn't see, which worried him, was that fucker, Ramsay. Now, more than ever, Sandor wanted to keep an eye on him. He seemed fixated on Sansa, and not in a good way.

Jeyne was barking (pun fully intended Sandor thought, chuckling to himself) out orders to her staff, while Wyn and Dacey doled out glasses of iced tea and lemonade, laughing and flirting with anyone who came by their table, old or young.

Sansa had just stepped down off the chair and put the loudspeaker down when she spotted him. Her face broke out into a huge grin, and she waved. Sandor didn't know if anyone had ever looked at him like that before in his life. Like he was someone worthwhile that they wanted to see. It was a heady feeling for a man with his past.

"Sandor!" she cried and all but ran up to him.

Had Sandor had eyes for anyone but her, he would have seen the pleased look on Ned's face, and the grins on Robb and Ric's. For some fucking reason, the Starks liked him.

But he missed all that because he was so wrapped up in Sansa and the fucking happiness that was her.

She looked terrific in her Wolves t-shirt, and little sneakers and Sandor longed to hug her. To just say _fuck it_ and drag her into his arms and keep her there. Instead, he smiled at her as she stepped back.

"Hi, Sansa."

"Isn’t this amazing? I can't believe it! Jeyne says that we've already raised close to $100,000!"

Sandor could believe it. These people in the North loved Sansa and her family.

And hockey. Man, did they love hockey up here.

Sandor had never played in a place that dissected hockey as much as these people did. It made him extra excited about the upcoming season.

"That's great," he said and coughed, digging through his pockets to give her the folded up cheque.

"What's this?"

"For Jeyne."

Sansa unfolded it and gasped and then threw herself into his arms.

"Sandor, this is amazing. Thank you so much."

She grabbed his hand and tugged him closer to the tent. "Come on, let's give it to her."

Sandor didn't know what else to do, but let Sansa lead him towards Jeyne, who looked almost manic with trying to manage everything. When they got closer, Sansa dropped his hand, to run her hands down her friend's arms.

"Breath, hun. Everything is going amazingly well," Sansa told her, and Jeyne nodded.

Then she burst into tears, and Sandor wanted to be anywhere but here.

"Oh gods, San. It's going so well. Do you know how much money we've raised already? And we are just getting started. And the pets; they're finding homes San. Real homes with families," Jeyne said, sniffling. Her eyes were misty. 

Sansa smiled at her. "They are. It's amazing. Here, from Sandor," Sansa said, winking at him and handing Jeyne the cheque. Her eyes bugged out and then she also threw herself into Sandor's arms, thanking him. Sandor had never been hugged so much in his life!

"Oh, gods, Sansa between you and Sandor, you've donated fifty thousand dollars," Jeyne said, blown away.

Then Jeyne went on to tell Sandor how Sansa had posted a bunch of selfies on her IG page with a link to their shelter’s website and that their online donations were pouring in.

Sandor loved how Sansa had a generous heart, and it just proved, again, how she wasn't the stuck up bitch he first thought she was.

"Come on, let's go meet some dogs," Sansa said, eyes bright as she left Jeyne to her staff.

They walked over to the pens that the shelter staff had set up.

Sansa was telling Sandor that when word had gone out about the fundraiser, people who might be thinking of adopting had to fill out an application form. Jeyne and her staff had worked tirelessly to vet those people in a week so that the adoptions happening today weren't entirely the free for all people might think they were.

It made for good press, but there was still a process and it always, always came down to matching the pets with the people. If a match wasn’t right, Jeyne wouldn't approve it.

It was smart, and Jeyne had dedicated one of her younger volunteers, a bubbly twenty-something named Amie to take pictures and upload them to their IG account.

Sansa and Wyn had given Jeyne a crash course on how to use celebrity to generate money for the shelter and so far, it was working.

There were all types of dogs, and Sandor's heart went out to them all. He'd had dogs when he was younger, and his father hadn't been a total waste of skin. But after his mom got sick and their old dog died a month after her, none of the Clegane's were in a space to care for anything, let alone a dog. It had been another loss that had almost crippled him when he’d been a kid.

There were yappy little dogs, mutts and purebreds, a whole bunch of bunnies which baffled Sandor as to why anyone would want a fucking bunny, and a dozen or so cats that were in some weird enclosure type thing so that people could see them.

People browsed, and if they were interested, and hadn't done the paperwork, they quickly scrambled to comply. Each adoption that had been pre-screened got a photograph with a Wolves' player and upload onto their website.

The most shocking thing was that Sansa hadn't let Sandor's hand go, linking their fingers together so as they strolled through the parade of animals they did so together.

Like a fucking couple.

They hadn’t even spoken about what the fuck this was, so it scrambled Sandor’s brains, but he wasn’t going to let go of her hand and demand answers from her. Not here and not now.

A low, dark snarl stopped Sandor in his tracks, and he turned to look beyond the staged area of the pets that were ready for homes.

That’s when he saw it. In the back, behind the tent, in their own space and territory, cowered a dog. It looked like some type of pitbull, maybe a blue one.

Shelley, a long-time worker at the shelter and their number one rehabilitation specialist, was crouching low, speaking softly to the dog.

"Come on, sweetie," she purred. "We tried today, and that's all we wanted for you."

Unable to stay away, Sandor walked closer, Sansa by his side. When they got nearer, Shelley looked up at them and recognizing Sansa, smiled.

"Hey San," she said, a friendly but sad smile on her face.

"Who's this?" Sansa asked, voice low and calm.

"This is Sweetie. She's been with us a while."

"How long?" Sansa asked.

Sandor's voice had fled him. His stomach roiled in the familiarity of what this dog was going through.

Unwanted.

Abused.

Unloved.

"Over a year."

Sandor’s heart clenched. A fucking year and no adoption.

"What's her story?" Sandor heard Sansa ask, unable to hide the sorrow in her voice. He squeezed her hand.

Shelley sighed. "She was found tied to a post, part of a dogfighting ring. As far as we can tell, she wasn't very good, so the bastard that had her, let the other dogs beat the crap out of her for practice. They just tore into her, all the fucking time."

Shelley's eyes blazed with righteous anger.

Sandor thought he might be sick. He could see the scarring on her face, ears, her muzzle, her chest. Even on her fucking legs. She must have been attacked, time and again to have so much. He fucking hated people and the cruelty they were capable of.

"She was almost dead when we got her. It was touch and go. But she survived the surgeries and we knew she wanted a second chance. We named her Sweetie, because that’s what she is, a sweetheart. She's normally better, and we thought maybe today,” Shelley gestured at the huge crowd. “We had hoped we might find a match for her. But all this noise and people. It's just too much," Shelley said, shaking her head.

Sansa heaved out a little cry, and Sandor pulled her closer. "It's ok, little bird," he whispered to her even though it wasn't. Nothing about what had been done to this dog was ok.

Sansa shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes as she crouched down low.

"Oh gods, Sandor, who could do something like that to her? Look at her."

Sandor was looking, and it was like seeing himself. Scared. Alone. Cowering in the corner. Covered in marks that would announce to the entire world that you’d been abused.

He could never escape his past.

Shelley was looking between the dog and Sansa, who had stayed low, uncaring that she was getting her outfit dirty. Sandor knelt beside Sansa, putting his hands on his thighs and trying to make himself as small as possible, which wasn't easy for a man his size.

"Hi there, girl," he said, voice raspy and thick with unnamed emotion.

He cursed himself for being a fool, for what he was about to reveal. He was sure he'd send Sansa running away, but he couldn't just stand by and not tell this dog that he knew what she felt. That he knew exactly what she was going through.

"I know how you feel. Alone. Scared. Like you can't trust anyone," he spoke directly to her. "You feel like the people who were supposed to love you broke your trust forever."

He coughed and kept his eyes on the dog, who had inched closer to him. He couldn’t bear to look at Sansa and see pity there. It would destroy him.

Sandor felt Sansa's hand on his back, rubbing in a comforting circle. So apparently, he wasn't going to scare her away. Interesting.

"I know you've been hurt," he said, shifting slightly, so he was even lower, now sitting on his ass and speaking to the dog. Shelley handed him some dog cookies. His eyes never left the pitty.

"She likes treats," was all the trainer said, light dancing in her eyes.

"I've got scars too," Sandor said, putting a treat in front of him as Sweetie crept even closer, sniffing now and not quite so tense.

"Sandor, she's so pretty," Sansa whispered. She'd taken to holding his other hand.

Sweetie's head rose a bit, and she licked out her tongue.

"Oh yes, I said it. You're a pretty girl, aren't you,” Sansa all but crooned to the dog.

Sandor swore Sweetie’s chest puffed out just a bit. And the amazing part was, Sandor could tell Sansa was telling the truth to the dog. Even with the scars, Sansa thought she was pretty.

Sweetie crept closer to them, and Sansa's smile grew.

"Aye bet you're hungry even though you get your meals now. But you don't know if you can trust they'll keep coming, do you?" Sandor said and heard Sansa choke back a sob and grasp his hand as if she knew he was speaking from his own experiences.

The dog came even closer until finally she snatched up a cookie and chewed fast.

Then she sniffed for more, and taking a chance, Sandor held out his palm, flat with another cookie in the middle.

His hands were his life; they were his moneymakers, and if this dog tore his hand apart, he'd be fucked. But he knew that he needed to show her trust, to give her the power to take everything away from him if he was ever going to earn hers.

Sansa and Shelley held their collective breath.

Sweetie sniffed his hand and then licked and daintily took the cookie from his hand, wiggling ever closer, her tail starting to thump.

"Aye girl, you know I've got the goodies, don't you?" Sandor said, and the dog all but crawled into his lap.

"Holy shit," Shelley said, as she watched Sweetie wiggle and squirm on Sandor as the massive man cradled her in his arms and she licked at his face. His big hands were everywhere, scratching and rubbing at the dog whose eyes had all but rolled back in delight.

Sansa was openly crying, not caring at all that she was a mess of emotion as far as Sandor could tell.

"So, Clegane," Shelley said, reading the name on the back of his jersey. "Are you looking for a dog?"

Sansa laughed at his stunned expression, but as he gazed down at brown eyes that were looking at him with unconditional love, hope and trust, he knew that even if he hadn't been looking for one, one had found him.

"I guess I am."

Everyone was laughing and crying as Sandor held the Pitbull in his arms. He had no idea how this had all happened.

"Umm, I only have my bike here," he started to say.

Shelley gave him a look.

"Despite that impressive display, Clegane, you still need to fill out paperwork. And get some supplies. And be vetted. It'll be a few days before she can go home with you." Shelley paused. "And I need you to think about this. Really think about this. I think you two are well-matched, and I've never seen her take to someone so quickly. But I won't lie. Sweetie is a lot of work. She has issues, Mr. Clegane, and if you go home tonight and decided she'd too much, or she's not for you, there will be no hard feelings. I'd rather you say no now, then take her and give her back in six months."

Sandor nodded, looking at Shelley. She was like a lioness protecting her cubs, and he loved her brutal honesty and her no bullshit attitude when it came to the dogs under her care.

"Fair enough. My biggest issue is what I'd do with her when I'm out of town. I play for the Wolves."

Shelley gave him a dry look. "I got that."

Sandor was just about to say something more when Sansa chirped.

"I'll stay with her. I mean, she can stay with me. Or me with her. Or whatever. We can work it out. But if you need me, Sandor, I can look after her."

Sandor stared at Sansa, wondering how she had come to be in his life, seemingly so vital and essential after only a few weeks. She couldn't be real. People like Sansa Stark didn't help people like him.

"You'd do that?"

Sansa nodded and then reached out and tentatively stroked Sweetie's head. The dog pressed back against Sansa's hand.

"I would. I love dogs and she's just like her name – a sweetie." The dog licked Sansa’s hand and wiggled some more, clearly happy.

Sandor swallowed hard and nodded.

He and Sansa spent another half an hour with her before they coaxed her into her crate. She whined a bit, and Sandor tore off his jersey and shoved it inside the crate and watched as she sniffed it and then curled up in a ball on top of it. Sansa was back to holding his hand, squeezing it hard.

He choked up when he said goodbye to her and then filled out the paperwork. Jeyne, who by now had heard about the miracle of Sandor, Sansa and Sweetie, promised to expedite the adoption.

Nodding numbly, Sandor looked around, the crowd even bigger than before. They’d spent an hour with the abused pitbull and he’d lost all tract of time.

Now, looking around, he felt like his skin was too tight, the group too big. There was too much going on, and he needed out. He'd fucking given away his jersey to his dog, and now he just looked like a huge scowling asshole who couldn't string two words together. Being with the dog had dredged up years of awful memories and he felt trapped, even though they were in a wide-open park.

Somehow without him even knowing it, Sansa knew. She had navigated him towards her father.

"Hi, Dad. We're going to take off," she was telling Ned.

Ned took one look at Sandor, his face tight, jaw clenched, and him still holding Sansa's hand like she was his life raft in a tumultuous sea.

"Alright. Be safe guys," was all he said and then Sandor was stalking across the park, Sansa almost running to keep up. When they got to his bike, Sandor took several deep breaths and then turned to Sansa.

"I know I'm on edge. You don't have to come with me. I'll be fine."

Sansa nodded. "Fair enough. Do you want me to come with you?"

He barked out a harsh laugh. "Yes. But I don't even know where I'm going, Sansa."

She smiled and cupped his cheek; his scarred one, and there was no disgust in her eyes.

"Well, I don't have anywhere else to be and no curfew, Sandor."

Nodding, he reached down and pulled out a helmet that was her size. Saying nothing, Sansa put it on as he donned his.

"Ever been on a bike?"

"Nope."

Sandor felt some of the tension drain from his shoulders. If they were on the bike, he wouldn't have to speak; to answer some of the hard questions in the huge pot of his murky past that he'd just ripped open. He'd never been so vulnerable with anyone, and he needed the open road. He needed miles between him and all that he’d exposed about himself here. 

"You need to hold on to me, tight, little bird. Lean into the corners. We won't be able to talk, but if you're scared or need something, tap me on the chest a couple of times."

Sansa nodded, and then Sandor swung a leg over the bike and turned, patting the small space behind him. His Harley was not designed for a second rider, but she was so slim, they'd make it work. Besides, Sandor needed her there, on his bike, in a way he couldn't explain.

When Sansa wrapped her legs and chest to his back, something in him roared to life. She was his. Maybe not yet, perhaps not in all the ways he wanted her to be. But she would be — one day.

Then her arms came around the front of his huge chest, and he grabbed the little fist she made and squeezed. He kicked the engine to life and heard her say, "I'm ready."

With a single nod, Sandor roared away from the park, her words echoing in his head.

She was ready.

Sandor hoped to hell he was because she deserved everything in her next relationship. And more than anything, Sandor wanted to be the man in Sansa Stark’s life that gave that to her. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Sandor chat, some Stark family interactions and more Sansan

* * *

_ Sansa _

Sansa leaned into Sandor as he roared through Wintertown. He was entirely at ease with his powerful bike and what it could and couldn't do. She wondered momentarily if he did this often; offer rides to women. Then she thought about it, and she knew he didn't. The way he had spoken, almost desperate to get away from the park, the people, the crushing weight of his past, Sansa knew that his bike was sacred to him. And he'd invited her to be with him.

So she pressed herself more firmly to him, all but moulding the front of her body to his enormous back and clung to his form. Every so often, he'd take his hand from one of the handlebars and squeeze hers in the little fist she had made to hold on to him. Her arms barely fit around the man, he was so big, and she knew it was his way of checking to see if she was doing alright.

Sandor Clegane might have a nasty reputation on the ice. He might swear more than a sailor. And he might scowl like he was auditioning for a villain in a movie.

But he cared.

Holy shit did the man care.

No one could be that gentle with an abused dog and not have a heart of gold buried under this gruff exterior. No one.

Sansa felt safe with him, and without a care in the world, as they made their way through her hometown and then slowly to the outskirts, where the homes became fewer and fewer until finally there was nothing but open road, sunshine and them.

Sansa knew that what had gone down at the park was heavy. She knew that he'd revealed horrible things about his past. And she knew she was determined not to bring it up until he did.

She wouldn't pressure him to say anything more; she'd just be there for him.

Sansa contented herself with the vibrations of the bike beneath her body (and yes, it was as erotic as she'd imagined and she had imagined A LOT). Sansa might have one or several biker romance novels on her Kindle. She had a thing for romance novels and bad boys and opposites that were attracted to them.

And now here she was, living out one of her fantasies.

Bad boy, surely attitude, a heart of gold and a bike.

Sansa was living her best life at this exact moment.

It was an hour before they finally stopped. Sandor had somehow pointed them North and then up a twisty mountain road until they came to a lookout at the top. There were a few picnic tables and a world-class view of the massive lake where her parents lived.

Sansa knew this lookout point well; almost everyone who had lived in the North had been here at least once in her life, but she was surprised that Sandor knew about it. He must have spent more time exploring the North then she realized.

When the engine was finally quiet, the silence between them should have felt oppressive, or maybe awkward, but it didn't. Sansa took off her helmet, gave it to Sandor and hopped off the bike, wandering close to the guard railing and the overview of the lake to give him a moment to himself. She sensed he needed it.

He joined her a few minutes later, quiet and his with his eyes guarded. He looked like he was worried she was going to begin to quiz him on what he'd revealed, forcing things out of him; he clearly wasn't ready to share.

_Gods, he was just like his dog,_ Sansa thought, heart breaking.

He'd been so ill-used, so unloved; it was no wonder he was the way he was. So Sansa did what she did best. She spoke about her life, choosing to give him space and time to process everything that had happened today.

"I moved to the Riverlands when I was just out of high school. My Mom, I swear, she wanted to keep me here, but she could see I wanted something more," Sansa said, taking control of the conversation.

"More than this?" Sandor asked, incredulous. He was looking down at the lake and the McMansions that lined it. One of which was Winterfell.

Sansa laughed. She could see how her life looked perfect. And in many ways, it was. She had an almost idyllic childhood when she thought of what his had been.

What had he said to Sweetie- that he knew what it was like to be alone, scared, hurt, starving, beaten. Gods, she wished she could go back and erase all those painful memories for him.

"Hush now, this is my story." She gave him a little wink and saw his shoulders relax fractionally. "Hockey ruled in my house, Sandor and for a good reason. It's the North, and no other sport compares up here, and my Dad was a star. One of the only fights my parents got in was when my Dad tried to sign me up for hockey. He handed me Robb's old hockey skates, and I cried."

Sandor's eyes crinkled as he lost a bit of that haunted look. She thought that maybe he was picturing her as a kid, crying at being handed hockey skates.

Sansa shrugged. "I was four. I wanted to figure skate. My Mom put her foot down, and my Dad agreed but said it was on her if I was going to figure skate. Everything. Practices, competitions, my outfits, training, choreography. I mean, it wasn't a money thing; just a time and interest thing. My Dad, and don’t get me wrong, I love him, but he was all about hockey."

Sandor grunted. Sansa gave him a smile.

"Anyway, long story short, I loved everything that came with figure skating, including dressing up and making my costumes with my mom." She grinned wider and winked at him. "And the make-up."

Sandor snorted. He'd shared rink time with the figure skating club in Lannisport. He'd seen what those girls caked on for a competition. Somehow, it wasn't hard to picture Sansa as a kid, loving every part of it, and he told her so.

"I thought maybe I wanted to do fashion design. I still like making my own clothes, although I'm so busy now I rarely do. But the pressure of designing for others was too much. So I took business and communications and majored in marketing. I lived with my Grandma, my mom's mother. Sandor, you should see her. Every day, Grandma Minisa dressed to the nines. Hair, makeup, the works. We spent so much together, and I stumbled on these YouTube videos of these women that were doing hair and make-up tutorials. They had a crazy amount of followers. Grandma said I should do that. That I was prettier and smarter than them."

Sansa smiled softly at the memory, not even looking at Sandor but lost in the past.

"Gods, we spent hours taping and taping until I finally found my courage and my voice and posted my first video on YouTube. It was a hit and my career was born."

"And Harry?" Sandor asked, voice gruff from disuse.

Sansa turned to look at him, his massive silhouette almost blocking out the sun as he stood beside her. His face had softened as he'd listened to her story.

_He was such a good listener_, Sansa thought.

It was so lovely to have a man focused on her the way that he did. Harry never listened to her, not like this with such intensity. And speaking of Harry, of course, Sandor would ask. He deserved to know.

"I'd like to say he was a mistake, but he wasn't. He was a deliberate choice, which you'll probably judge me for."

Sandor shook his head and then reached out and grabbed her hand, stroking a massive thumb over the back of her hand. Sansa's heart fluttered, and heat shot straight through her.

"I won't."

She snorted. "You mean you won't think I'm shallow, vain and selfish if I tell you I used him as much as he used me?"

Sandor shook his head again, wisely keeping his mouth shut.

Sansa heaved out a sigh.

"He was pretty; not handsome but pretty. He was shallow from the start, but I didn't mind. He was a year older than me, which I liked. I didn't have to put much effort into it; him, our relationship, any of it. He was so different from Robb and all his buddies, and I knew from the beginning that he'd never break my heart. I was never in any danger of falling in love with Harry. He was the perfect first boyfriend for a woman that didn't really have time for one but was sick of being a virgin at twenty-one and just was anxious to start living life."

Sandor startled, growled at the virgin comment and then tugged her closer. She got another whiff of him and boy oh boy did her vajajay love that.

She inhaled him.

"He's the only man you've been with?" His voice was intense and somehow hungry, and Sansa could feel the delicious sexual hum between them as Sandor realized she had only been with one man.

For some reason, and she didn't exam it too carefully right now, Sansa was glad there had only been one man she'd been with. It made what was happening with Sandor something more- like it was something special.

Sansa nodded. "Hockey player Dad, protective older brother and super involved mom. Also, honour roll, ice skater, and older sister to three younger siblings." She shrugged. "I didn't date much, and I had a crush on Theon."

Sandor let out a pained sound then and muttered, "Fucking Greyjoy."

Sansa rolled her eyes at him and thumped him on his chest. A chest which she was quite close to. "Trust me; you have nothing to worry about. Theon barely looked at me. I watched Robb, Jon and Theon date so many women. It did not endear me to hockey players, Sandor."

He had the grace to blush and then scrubbed at his beard. When he finally met her eyes, Sansa saw that he was wide open. This man might be gruff, but he wasn't a liar. And he was trying for her; with her. Her heart melted just a little bit more.

"I won't lie and say I haven't had my fair share of… hookups," he said, blushing again and wasn’t that just the most adorable thing on a tattooed beast of a man. "But I haven't been that guy for a while. A long while."

"And past girlfriends?" Sansa asked, sincerely interested.

Sandor heaved out a sighed. "Fuck, Sansa, I'm not good at this shit."

"Try."

She knew there was something between them. But she would not be in a one-side relationship ever again. She had learned her lesson with Harry. And she knew she had serious hang-ups about hockey players, none of which was Sandor’s fault.

But as much as Sandor had some significant baggage so did she.

None of that would make her turn away unless he was going to freeze her out. She needed them to be open with one another. He must have seen something in her eyes because he started to speak again.

"One right out of high school when I was nineteen and one when I was twenty-four."

"And?"

He sighed again and gave her a pointed look.

Sansa just stared back at him.

"The one when I was nineteen was just using me. We were the same age. She didn't really like me; I just liked the status it gave her to date the number one player on the team. I walked in on her kissing my teammate."

Sansa's heart broke for him. "How long had you been together?"

"Six months."

"I'm sorry."

Sandor shrugged. "We both knew I wasn't really built for a relationship but it hurt. A lot."

"And the other one?" Sansa reached for his hand, and returned the favour, stroking her fingers over the back of his.

"It was worse."

"How?"

Sandor turned away from her and then stopped when he realized she still held his hand.

"Sandor, I won't say a word to anyone. Whatever you tell me, it's between us. But if we are going to go forward, if we are to see if there is anything here, we need to be honest with each other."

He swallowed hard, held her gaze, his grey eyes tumultuous. "She was a single mom, twenty-six years old. She was two years older than me. She had a little boy who was about five. I met her when she came out for a skate with the Lions one Sunday afternoon."

Sansa felt her heart clench. She knew how this ended, and she could feel his pain.

"She ummm, well, she paid attention to me, in a way that was different from other women, from the puck bunnies. She cared." He snorted. "Or I thought she did. We went slow. Movies, coffee, shit like that. I taught her son to skate. I thought she wanted a family, Sansa. I thought she wanted me as her family."

The pain radiated off of him.

"What happened?"

"He ex came back. He made all sorts of excuses. They had been young when they got pregnant, in college. He'd been an idiot at the time and didn't want the responsibility."

"How long were you two together?" Sansa asked, trying to tamp down the jealously of some other woman having Sandor that wanted her as his family.

Sansa was startled to realize how good that sounded. This was a man that when he committed, would be all in. He'd hold nothing back if you could crack those walls, and he'd make that woman his entire world. The woman and perhaps even children. Somehow, it wasn’t hard to imagine Sandor with a whole hockey team of kids.

"Just under a year and a half."

Sansa sucked in a breath. She couldn't imagine the pain of him having yet another person abandon him. And this was a woman he cared about.

"She was just gone. Her and her son. She just left, like I was nothing. Like we hadn't been spending all our time together- like we hadn't been building to something more." Sandor paused. "Looking back, I can see the signs now. She never came to my games, never wore my jersey. Resisted when I suggested we move in together. It turns out they'd been talking for about six months before he finally came back to Lannisport. She was hedging her bets, and I lost out."

"Oh Sandor, I'm so sorry," Sansa said, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly.

He resisted for a moment and then his huge arms hugged her back, pressing her to his chest. All of him engulfed her, and it felt amazing.

When they finally pulled back from one another, he looked directly at her, keeping Sansa close.

"What is this, Sansa? Because I don't do fucking games," he told her bluntly. He was as raw and as vulnerable right now as he’d ever been with anyone, she could see that.

She nodded. "Fair enough." She titled her head. "I'm not sure what this is, and I know I need a bit of time."

She saw him start to shut down, and she reached up and grabbed his face.

"Sandor, look at me."

He did, and she was never more grateful that he’d given her a chance to explain.

"I'm not playing a game. While my heart and my head have been done with Harry for a long time, the reality is, we just broke up. I'm figuring out my Mom's illness, helping my brother adjust to life as a pro hockey player and trying to run my two businesses."

"Fair enough," he said and went to pull back, his face an emotionless mask again.

Sansa stopped him with a tug on his hands.

"Sandor stop. You don't understand what I'm saying. Despite ALL of that, I think about you. All the time."

"Yeah?"

She saw a light come back into his eyes.

"Yeah, I do. And I like it when you hold my hand and call me little bird. And I didn't like it when Dacey was hitting on you. And I was waiting for you today; at the fundraiser. I was excited to see you."

"So… not just friends," Sandor said a bit tentative. He wanted to define this, needed to.

Sansa smiled. "No, not just friends. But I just need a bit of time to figure everything out, and I know that's asking a lot, and I'm sorry if you can't…"

Sansa stopped talking because Sandor's lips were suddenly on hers. She arched into him, winding her hands around his neck as he pulled her flush against his ripped body, carding his hands through her hair.

"Stop talking, little bird," he whispered into her ear, making her swoon and giggle and blush all at the same time. Then his lips were on hers again. They slanted her mouth, his tongue demanding entrance to hers, as Sansa moaned and pressed herself closer to him, lost in everything he was making her feel.

His hands were kneading the back of her neck, making her rise up, even more, trying to get closer, closer to Sandor.

He was everywhere; his scent, his tongue, his lips. Teeth, oh gods, teeth that were nipping at her. Sansa wanted more, more of Sandor, more kisses, more of everything as this man demanded as much from her as he was giving. She loved it, and felt how huge this was, wiggling closer and closer to him. He was relentless, kissing her again and again, until her lips were puffy and she felt like she’d just run five miles.

When he finally stopped, almost panting, Sansa clutched at his t-shirt, the soft material bunching in her hands.

"Sorry," he said gruffly.

"Don't. Don't apologize for the best kiss of my life, Sandor."

He gave a half-smirk. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Sansa tried to get her breathing under control, to _think._

After a moment, when she was halfway back to normal and not letting Sandor go, she looked up at him. She loved how he could be still, be quiet. Harry was always talking, texting, flapping about. His energy had been exhausting. 

She gave Sandor a little grin. "So maybe we could take things slow."

He nodded and cupped her cheek, his large hand cradling her entire face. "I can do slow, little bird." Then he frowned. "What does that mean?"

Sansa laughed. "Like, maybe we go on a date. Hold hands. Kiss me at the front door when you bring me home."

Sandor nodded. "I can do that." He repeated and paused. "Sansa, would you like to get coffee with me after practise sometime this week."

Her grin lit her entire face. "I'd like that."

"Uhmmm, there is one other thing," he said, looking a bit nervous. "If they do say I can have the dog, will you come with me to get her?"

"Oh gods, Sandor, yes. Of course, I will. I'd love to. Oh and we can go shopping for her!" Sansa's voice rose in excitement.

Sandor shook his head, but Sansa just kept talking, as he led her back to his bike. It was getting late in the afternoon, and she thought she heard him mutter something that sounded like _always chirping_.

This time Sansa happily donned her helmet and then snuggled against Sandor as he started the bike, leaning with him as he took them back down the mountain, he had climbed an hour and a half earlier. She liked the openness that came from riding on a bike; the freedom in it. And the way Sandor handled the machine was one of the sexiest things Sansa had ever seen.

Too soon for her liking, they were pulling up to Winterfell, and Sandor killed the engine to the bike once more.

Sansa sighed and swung off the Harley. She knew she owed her family some answers, and she wasn't one to keep secrets. Besides, they hadn't exactly hidden anything today.

"Thanks for a great day," Sansa said, a bit shyly. She thanked the gods that no one was waiting at the door.

Sandor grinned and tugged her closer, still straddling his bike, so she was standing in the cradle of his arms. Sansa thought he was the hottest thing she'd ever seen, ripped up jeans, t-shirt and kick-ass boots. She and her lady parts were going to have to have a serious discussion tonight.

Sandor kissed her softly, gentler than she thought he could ever be, and Sansa moaned a bit into his mouth.

"Sandor," she whispered.

"Little bird."

She rested her forehead against his. "Gods, you're tempting."

"That's my line. Now go inside, Sansa, before your Dad comes out with a hockey stick."

She nodded.

"Text me later?" she asked, hating the neediness in her voice, but unable to prevent it.

"Of course," Sandor said.

Then she stepped back, and the bike roared back to life. Sansa watched until he disappeared down the street and then, with a happy smile, wandered into the main house. There would be no escaping the Stark family integration.

She walked into her Dad making dinner, spaghetti and meatballs, the only meal he could make reasonably well, with the entire family there, gathered in the great room and kitchen.

Robb, Arya, Rickon, her Mom and her Dad. All the Starks but Bran accounted for.

Even though they were nosy as could be, even though they drove her nuts, even though she sometimes felt she had never had any space growing up, at that moment, Sansa was struck with just how damn lucky she was.

Her family loved one another. Perhaps too much for some, but it was part of what made them so special. They had the best life growing up. Sansa knew this. Hearing Sandor's story, his abuse, his neglect, it made her physically ache. Seeing Robb bugging Arya, who was glaring at him as Ric bounced around, bringing their Mom a cup of tea while their Dad called out insults as he cooked, Sansa burst into tears.

All five Starks turned to look at her, and then her Dad was there, hugging her close.

"He needs you, San."

"Daddy, his childhood was so awful. What type of people do that to a child?" she whispered into his ear, still ugly crying as her Dad rubbed her back.

"Horrible people that shouldn't be parents, Sansa. But you can't fix his childhood."

"No, but I can be here for him now," she said, suddenly fierce and determined.

Ned chuckled. "You can."

Sansa's eyes narrowed. "How did you know that we would get along?"

Ned tweaked her nose. "You're both stubborn iditols with huge hearts. Look at what Clegane did with Ric, Sansa. Deep down, that is a man that cares deeply and protects those he views as his."

Sansa nodded, thinking her Dad was an excellent judge of character.

As if sensing that some heavy stuff went down, her siblings are blessedly quiet as Sansa just leaned against her Dad as he'd stirred his sauce. While it was true she had always been closest to her Mom, her Dad was there for them, for all of them. For being a professional athlete, Ned Stark made his family his number one priority.

It's an epiphany for Sansa. For so long, she'd been comparing guys like Jon and Robb to every other hockey player, and even maybe a bit to Sandor, when she should have been comparing Sandor to her Dad. Her Dad never once looked at another woman or gave her Mom a moment of concern.

"So San," Ric said, interrupting, stealing a meatball. The kid was a bottomless pit of hunger. "Did Sandor get a dog?"

Sansa looked at her brother, eager and happy, so open and loving.

"I think so, Ric."

Robb and Arya, interested in the story, migrated to the kitchen, Robb helping their Mom so she could sit on a stool.

Once the Starks were gathered around, Sansa told them all about Sweetie, her story, and how she seemed to bond with Sandor.

She never revealed any of what Sandor told her, but it was more than evident that the man felt a connection to the abused pit-bull.

"People are so awful," Catelyn said, her heart hurting for both dog and the little boy she knew had a brutal childhood.

Robb was clutching his fists. "I just know that if I ever knew that someone was doing that shit with their dogs, I'd fucking lose it."

"Language," Cat said, and Robb looked sheepish.

"Sorry, Mom. It's just disgusting."

"Doesn't Ramsay have pit bulls?" Rickon said innocently as he grabbed glasses and started to set the table.

Everyone froze. They all knew that there wasn't quite something right with Ramsay Bolton, but he had been too good for Ned to cut him.

"Just because you have the same breed of dog doesn't mean you run an illegal dogfighting ring, Ric," Ned told his youngest son, gentle but firm.

Ric shrugged. "Oh yeah, I know Dad. Just the guy kind of creeps me out. I wonder if he'd know anyone who did that stuff. You know, if Sandor wanted to find out who did that to his dog."

"Sweetie isn't his yet, Ric," Sansa told him, and Ric nodded. “And I don’t get the feeling that Sandor would want Ramsay knowing anything about his dog.”

"Yeah, I guess so. But like Jeyne's going to say no. You should have heard her after you two left, going on and on about how much money the two of you raised and finding Sweetie a home." Rickon was grinning. He loved that Sandor had gotten a dog. "I wonder if Sandor will let me come with him when he goes to get her?"

Sansa laughed at her brother and took out her phone as the conversation flowed around her, mostly bugging Ric about his lack of attention to his chores.

**Sansa**: Ric wants to come when you get to pick up Sweetie. What do you want me to tell him?

**Sandor**: You inviting a third wheel on our date, little bird?

**Sansa**: No, it's just, he's excited Sandor, and he hero-worships you, and now you have a dog.

**Sandor**: Calm down. I was bugging you. Sure he can come. But tell him I'll drive.

**Sansa**: On your bike?

**Sandor**: Lol. I have a car, Sansa.

**Sansa**: Ok, good. Cause if you didn't, we could always take mine.

**Sandor**: All good, little bird. All good.

**Sansa**: Dinner time. TTYL

**Sandor**: what?

**Sansa**: Talk to you later

**Sandor**: 👍

Sansa ginned at the emoji. Sandor was adorable.

Arya was smirking at her, shaking her head. "Who would have thought the prom queen would fall for the bad boy biker/hockey player?"

Sansa blushed and helped her Dad serve dinner. "He's more than just that, Arya."

"Oh, I know — way, way more. The man is built San. He's in peak shape already. Gendry's in fucking awe of him," Arya said.

"Language," Catelyn said gently, and Arya gave her Mom a looked that said _sorry_.

"Oh, Sandor said you could come when we go to get the dog, Ric," Sansa told him.

"Fucking sweet. Have you seen his car? It's a matte black Aston Martin San. Serious James Bond-level shit. The man knows his vehicles."

Catelyn heaved out a sigh. "It appears I've failed miserably at reminding my children about their manners. While I know you all live and work at a hockey rink, our home is not one of them. Can we please try to refrain from swearing quite so much?"

A round of sorry made its way around the table as they dished up.

"Although Sandor swears more than anyone. How are you going to handle that, Mom?"

Catelyn gave Arya a withering look. "When Sansa feels it is the right time to invite her boyfriend for supper, I will explain the house rules to him as well. He has to learn at some point."

Arya winked at Sansa. "He's mom-approved, San. Even Harry didn't get that."

Sansa couldn't help but thinking that was the truth. As rough as Sandor appeared, her family liked him. Everyone in her family. It was so weird, since Sansa had the worst luck in men, and almost no dating history so to speak.

That night as she lay in bed, she couldn't help but take her phone out again and texted Sandor.

**Sansa**: Best day ever. Thanks.

**Sandor**: Me too … … … I'm glad you were there.

**Sansa**: Anytime

**Sandor**: K, I gotta get some sleep. Coach is insane these days

**Sansa**: Yeah, he can be tough

**Sandor**: I can handle him

**Sansa**: I know I felt those muscles today

**Sandor**: Not helping, little 🐦 Remember. Slow.

**Sansa**: 🥺

**Sandor**: Oh, fuck. Don't start. Go to sleep Sansa

**Sansa**: 💋 😘 Because I got to kiss you today!!!!!!

**Sandor**: You are honestly killing me here, little bird. Killing me.

**Sansa**: Now you'll dream of me.

**Sandor**: No worries there

**Sansa**: OMG! Have you had dreams about me???

**Sandor**: I am NOT answering that question. GO TO SLEEP 💤

**Sansa**: YOU HAVE!!!! That's awesome. I had a dream about you as well.

**Sandor**: This is hell, right? That's where I am. Hell.

**Sansa**: Ok, Mr. Grumpypants. Go to sleep. SWEET DREAMS SANDOR!

**Sandor**: Night Sansa. Thanks. For… everything.

**Sansa**: Night Sandor. And you're welcome.

  
  


* * *

_ Sandor _

The next morning it was pissing down rain, so Sandor grabbed the keys to his Aston Martin to take to the rink. Before coming north, he'd spent his money on his bike, his car and his wardrobe. The rest he invested.

He might not look like the type, but Sandor had several designer suits in his closet. He needed them for going to and from the rink, and he hated wearing the same one more than once every few weeks. It was why he'd spent a small fortune on names like Tom Ford, Burberry, Dolce and Gabbana, Gucci, Brioni, Saint Laurent, Prada and Givenchy.

With his size, they all had to be custom made, and he liked them to fit a certain way. Gone were the days when hockey players could schlep into the rink looking like the dogs they were. Now, they were photographed everywhere, and Sandor liked to make a statement.

Today though, he was in loose black pants, a white t-shirt and a white zip-up. He scratched at his short beard, wondering for a moment if Sansa liked it or if she might like him better clean-shaven. Then he grinned, to himself, of course, as he was alone when he thought of Sansa.

Sansa.

He'd laid in bed like the fool he was looking at his phone long after she'd stopped texting, the entire day playing on repeat.

He couldn't believe he'd opened himself up so much when it came to Sweetie; he'd been vulnerable in front of Sansa in a way he hadn't been with anyone. Even his one failed relationship. Becca hadn't asked a lot of questions about his past, and Sandor hadn't ever felt comfortable bringing it up.

But with Sansa, he seemed to have no filter. After the entire dog park incident, he knew he needed space, and thankfully, Sansa had been right there with him.

Even more amazing? She hadn't dragged it all up again when they'd been up at that lookout. She'd just made herself vulnerable to him, sharing about Harry.

His lizard brain had gotten stuck on the fact that she had only been with one man.

One man.

Harry the douchebag.

Harry, the asshole.

Harry, who looked like a twig that Sandor could snap him in half.

And now she wanted something with him.

He could give her time. Hell, he could give her as much time as she wanted or needed. He liked the idea of dating her, getting to know her, taking her around the North, on his arm.

As he gunned the engine to his throaty car, he backed out of the garage and down the driveway and wondered if things might be different between him and Coach Stark today.

The man seemed to like him, which Sandor had never really had. And even if this did make things awkward between him and the Coach, it would be worth it. Sansa was worth it.

Sandor caught himself smiling, again, as he cruised towards the rink. He was feeling good, which was incredible considering all the shit he'd shared yesterday. He parked next to Ric's truck, smiling as the kid was waiting for him.

"Holy shit, I know I've seen your car before man, but it's so cool. Maybe one day I can drive it," Ric said, hopeful smile on his face. He was like a puppy; an eager, happy puppy. It was impossible to be in a bad mood when he was with the rookie.

"Sure," Sandor said, watching him utterly light up. "When your about ten years older and make as much as I do."

Ric's face fell for a moment before he rallied.

"So your new dog! That's so cool, man. Sansa told us all about her," Ric was saying as they made their way into the rink.

Sandor shook his head. Sansa's brother never stopped talking. When they got to the dressing room, Ned Stark was standing there, arms crossed. Waiting for him, Sandor knew.

Sandor patted Ric on the back. "Go in rookie."

Ric looked between his Dad and Sandor and gulped. Then he slipped inside, leaving the two men in the hallway.

Sandor kept his body loose, his arms at his side and his face open. He didn't need to make an enemy of his Coach.

"Clegane."

"Coach."

"Sansa doesn't need me to speak for her. She's one of the smartest people I know, and I trust her to make whatever choices for her life that make her happy."

Sandor nodded. "Fair enough."

"I feel like we've gotten to know one another over the past three weeks. You're a good man, Sandor, underneath some of that anger and hurt."

Sandor swallowed hard. "I'm working on that."

Ned nodded. "My wife likes you, Sandor, and I trust my wife's judgement. I like you, and I trust my judgement. And Sansa and Ric like you and my kids generally make good decisions."

Sandor smirked. "Ned, let me be blunt. I'm not your typical hockey player." Sandor held up a hand when Ned opened his mouth. "I won't lie and say I didn't screw around when I was younger, but all that ended years ago. I've been single for most of my life, and have had very few friends. Fewer people that are willing to let me into their family."

Sandor saw Ned's stature relax slightly at the word family. They were on the same damn page. Thank god.

"You've built something good up here, Ned. Lasting. I envy you. Beautiful wife, great kids, successful career." Sandor paused and looked the man straight in his eyes. "I want something like what you've built."

Ned said nothing for a moment, and then a smile broke out on his face, and he held out his hand. "My wife told Sansa that when she's ready to invite her boyfriend for dinner. Just so you know, you're welcome at our house."

Sandor's mouth dropped open. Now he was the boyfriend?

"She wants to take it slow. She needs time, that whole Harry situation."

Ned clapped Sandor on the back. "I knew you were a good guy, Sandor."

The two of them walked into the dressing room, Ned's arm around Sandor's massive shoulders, the two of them thick as thieves, speaking of the drills that Ned had planned today.

Sandor was fucking flying on the ice today; Coach approved of him and Sansa and he was well on his way to getting the woman. The team looked great and Sandor was ready to kick some ass on the ice.

"Holy fuck," Robb said, taking a seat by Sandor on the bench. "If I hadn't seen my Dad almost fucking hugging you, I'd think he was pissed that you left yesterday with my sister."

Sandor grunted. His entire body felt alive in a way that only existed when he was on the ice or with Sansa. That was the feeling he got with her, and it was only replicated at the rink.

"Coach is good. We'll be ready for pre-season next week," Sandor said.

They were on a five-minute break, and Sandor was sucking down as much water as he could pump into his body.

"I know," Robb said, heaving out a sigh.

Sandor gave him a look. He was closer with Ric, but Sandor figured now that he was maybe-sort of dating Sansa, he should make an effort with her oldest brother.

"He's good," Sandor grunted at Robb. "Your Dad. As a coach. He's not just some asshole."

Robb nodded, sucking back blue Gatorade. "I know. At first, I was pissed that he made you, Captain, but I get it now. Everyone listens to you and him, and I are close; maybe too close."

Sandor nodded. "Thanks." He was glad that they had cleared the air.

"So you and my sister," Robb said then, grinning.

Sandor scowled.

Robb laughed. "Gods, Clegane. I've been waiting for someone to make her head spin. Never thought it'd be a guy like you."

When Sandor growled, Robb laughed harder. "I meant a tattooed Harley riding hockey player with an attitude problem."

"You got a problem with my tats? Because I don't think you're the only Stark that likes a little ink." Sandor gave Robb a knowing look.

Robb flushed and grumbled. "So, you saw that."

It was Sandor's turn to smirk. "Everyone at our table saw it. What the fuck were you doing, flirting with all those other women when the one you want is Dacey?"

Robb heaved out a sigh. "She hates hockey players. Thinks we're all… well, players."

The look Sandor gave Robb had the younger man looking chagrined. "Yeah, I know. I've been a little… free with my attention towards the fairer sex. But now? I can't even look at another woman. All I want is her."

"Then stop fucking around and man up, Stark," Sandor snarked and then rose, swinging his huge legs over the boards. "Time to stop fucking around if you want the woman."

Robb looked a bit stunned and then grinned. "Fair enough, big guy," following Sandor over the boards and back into Ned Stark's gruelling practice, all thoughts of women gone for now as the Wolves were pushed to the brink of their endurance, able to do nothing more than skate, shoot and check until the final whistle blew.

When Sandor emerged from the showers, he was in the same clothes he'd worn to the rink and waiting outside in the hallway was Sansa. She was on her phone, and he stopped, drinking her in for a moment, unimpeded in his view of her.

She had on a skirt, some type of blousy top, little boots and a smart-looking jacket. Her blond hair was down, soft and touchable. She looked terrific, and Sandor swallowed hard. She was here.

When she finally looked up, she put her phone away and smiled at him.

"Hi, I hope I'm not being too forward," she said, giving a little shrug. "I hoped you'd want to grab a coffee. Or lunch." She checked her apple watch. "Maybe a late lunch, earlier dinner type thing?" It was three pm, and Sandor was starving.

"Uhmm, yeah. I mean, I was going to head home to cook, but we can go…"

"Oh, I'd love to see your home. Ric said it's great."

Sandor just stood there. _She wanted to see his home?_ This had to be a fucking dream.

She looked eager and excited, and he realized she wasn't kidding. She wanted to see his home.

"Uhmm, yeah. I eat pretty healthily, so it's just chicken stir fry, but I'm not an awful cook."

"Perfect," she said, holding out her hand, which he took, like the whipped mutt that he was.

Sandor had never had this. A woman, not a bunny, but a woman who was interested in him waiting outside the dressing room for him.

He looked down at the clasped hands, as others filed out behind them.

Robb just grinned at them, thanked Sandor for his advice.

"I'll tell you later," Sandor muttered to her at her questioning look.

Bronn and Tormund both flirted shamelessly with Sansa, who was friendly back to them, but Sandor knew the smile she had for them wasn't the one she used with him, so it was ok.

"Food?" Tormund asked Sandor, and he shook his head.

"Nah, we're going back to my place."

My place. He had a house. A nice house. A place where a woman like Sansa would feel comfortable, hopefully.

"I envy you dog," Tormund said, looking between the two of them.

"Hey guys, are we going dog shopping today?" came Ric's hopeful voice, totally missing the undercurrent of need and uncertainty and excitement between Sansa and Sandor.

Sansa laughed and shook her head, letting him down gently. "No, Ric. Sandor and I are just hanging out."

"Oh." His face fell for a moment before it brightened. "But when you do, you'll take me, right?"

"You bet, bro," Sansa assured him and squeezed Ric's hand. He smiled at the two of them.

"Have fun."

Then he was gone, and Sandor thought they were finally, blessedly alone until a voice stopped them both in their tracks as they walked through the lower levels of the rink.

"Were you fucking her before or after Coach named you Captain, dog?" came Ramsay's voice, hard and filled with bitterness and hate.

Sansa stiffened, and Sandor pulled her closer.

"Fuck off Bolton," Sandor snarled at the man, whose eyes danced with something that made Sandor's stomach churn.

The man was positively fixated on Sansa. Sandor knew the type; he'd lived with the type. He knew what the rumours about his older brother were, and it made him sick. Ramsay Bolton was worse than a bully. He was a man that got off on hurting others, inflicting fear and pain on them. He was a psychopath, just like Gregor.

Ramsay shook his head.

"Now, now dog, aren't you supposed to be nice to me? You are my captain after all," Ramsay smirked, spreading his arms wide.

Sansa shuddered a bit, and Sandor's grip on her tightened. He'd never let Ramsay ever fucking hurt her.

"Problem?" came Ned's voice. He was exiting the rink with Coach Cassel. Ned met Sandor's eyes. They would need to talk about Ramsay and soon. Sandor didn't care how many goals he scored; there was something not fucking right with him.

"No problem, Dad. I was just heading home with Sandor to hang out," Sansa said, her smile fake as she pressed even closer to Sandor.

"We'll walk you out. I've heard all about your car from my son, Sandor. It's time I took at it."

Message clear, Sansa and Sandor exited the rink with Ned and Rodrik. When they got to the impressive car, no one cared.

"He's not fucking right, Coach," Sandor blurted out, knowing whatever he said would stay between the four of them.

Ned sighed and ran a hand through his grey and brown hair. "I know. He disrupts the team too much. Fuck, he's only got a year left on his contract. I can try to move him or buy him out."

Sandor nodded. He didn't want to make the team weaker, but the sooner Ramsay was gone, the better he'd feel.

"Give me some time, Clegane, to work on it. I can see it as well."

Sandor grunted. "Ok."

Ned grinned. "Nice car,” Ned said, effectively changing the subject.

The smirk on Sandor's face said it all. He was a man that liked power, on or off the ice. "Yeah, she's pretty amazing."

The funniest thing was that Sandor had more than one woman hit on him because of what he drove, and the image he projected. He figured Sansa would be more interested in his suits than she was in his car.

"It's pretty," she said, smiling brightly, and Sandor's fucking traitorous heart thumped at how goddamn adorable she was.

"Little bird, it's an Aston Martin Vanquish," Sandor said, somewhat painfully. His car cost him over $300,000 and was not pretty. Matte black and full of attitude, it was badass. Not pretty.

She just smiled wider, as Ned and Rodrik chuckled at them.

"Have fun, you two," they said and then it was just Sandor and Sansa standing alone in the parking lot of the Wintertown Wolves arena.

"Are you sure you want to see my house?" Sandor asked, nerves taking over once again.

"I'm sure," she said and squeezed his hand.

Since he wasn't a total fucking moron when it came to women, Sandor opened the door for her and let her slide in, liking what she looked like there. Sansa might think his car was pretty, but Sandor knew it was a fucking kick-ass machine. And now the hottest woman he'd ever seen was sitting in the passenger seat, ready to come to his house.

As he hurried back to get into the driver's side, he muttered to himself, "Don't fuck this up, Clegane."

When he was in the driver's seat, he turned to Sansa. "Last chance."

She grinned. "Take me home, Sandor."

Fuck if four words had never sounded better in his life. He pressed the ignition, and the engine roared to life. Grabbing Sansa's hand, Sandor peeled out of the parking lot, nerves and hope warring in his chest, his stomach twisting and his heart aching.

Home.

With Sansa.

After hockey practice.

His car.

His woman.

His house.

Sounded fucking perfect to him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of dates and a dog adoption

* * *

_ Sansa _

Before Sandor, Sansa never would have thought she was the type of woman that got turned on watching a man drive. But damn if seeing Sandor handle his car and his bike didn’t make her center ache. He handled both of them so well, although it was nice in the car because one of his hands on the steering wheel, and the other one holding hers.

These little gestures that Sandor made with her were both at once sweet and highly erotic. She could feel how much he cared, and he showed that which meant so much to Sansa to after Harry. The attention alone was enough to make her pant. It was a single-mindedness when she was with Sandor that made Sansa feel like she was the most important thing in his world, and that was something entirely new to her.

It was heady.

It was addictive.

It was making her want to tear his clothes off even though she’d asked to go slow.

So Sansa forced her attention away from the man beside her and outside the car windows. Sandor navigated the car towards her parent's neighbourhood, past houses that were still six figures but not quite at the level Winterfell was.

Sansa loved this part of town. The yards were huge and the houses generous. There were families living here, and yet enough space and privacy that everyone didn't live on top of one another like in a new subdivision.

Because it was late September, they had a few hours until sunset, but the dreary rain hadn't abated, so Sansa knew they'd be inside.

Her stomach fluttered at the thought of time with just Sandor.

An entire afternoon and evening. In his home with no interruptions.

She was still sticking to taking things slowly, but their conversation yesterday had only made her want to get to know him better, and somehow she knew that sitting in a restaurant wouldn't be comfortable for him.

Perhaps making out could still be considered slow? She thought as he geared down and turned into his driveway. When his house came into view Sansa gasped.

"It's gorgeous, Sandor!" Her eyes took in everything, noting the vast front lawn, enough mature trees to give him a sense of privacy and the huge house that seemed to be made for this man sitting beside her; all stone and wood and windows.

"It's too big for just me, but the moment your Dad showed it to me, I knew." He said it gruffly as if he were embarrassed about how much space he had just bought.

"I get the full tour, right?" she said, a bright smile on her face. She knew he liked it when she smiled. He held her gaze for a moment and then nodded.

"Yeah, little bird, I'll give you a tour."

Sansa loved his nickname for her. Little bird.

They parked in the garage, and Sansa was out before Sandor could open the door. He scowled at her, but she just shook her head and reached for his hand. She could tell he was more annoyed than angry. Funny how she could read his every look. And funny how a man like him had manners!

"Show me your house," she told him, not giving him a chance to be grumpy. She was excited.

He opened the door into the kitchen, off the garage, and Sansa gasped again. She toed off her boots, wondering what it said about her that she loved his house instantly. She could see a whole group of little Sandor's lined up at the massive island in the kitchen, laughing and joking at the big hockey player as he made them food. The kitchen was made for a family.

In fact, room after room, as they went through the house, the entire place just screamed family.

There was the Great Room with Ric's 'present' and welcoming fireplace, huge couch and massive television. It was easy to see into the kitchen and Sansa could practically see hosting a party here; the flow, where people could move about easily and still find their own space. And while she wouldn't admit it to Sandor, he could have the biggest Christmas tree in here. The room practically begged for it. The open concept was amazing, and Sansa loved how the rooms just melted into one another.

Even though it was wet and rainy, he showed her the deck and the pool, and the large grilling area as well. It wasn't Winterfell, but Sansa loved it. The yard was huge and fenced in, and she knew that Sweetie would like her new home and be safe here.

He took her upstairs first, to his master bedroom.

Almost shyly, he tugged her towards the terrace, while Sansa was barely able to draw her eyes away from the biggest bed she'd ever seen. Gods, she was horny. She could imagine them tangled in those sheets, enough space for two tall people like them. Forcing her attention back to where Sandor had brought her, she let out a little cry of delight.

"Look at this. I think this is what did it for me," he said, bringing her outside. There was a little overhang so they could stand there and not get wet.

"Oh, Sandor! You can see the lake."

He grunted, still holding her hand. "I can."

Sansa sighed happily. "This is such a great master bedroom." When they were back inside, he tried to move her on, but she dug in her heels.

"Now, I get to check out your closet." His eyes crinkled and she knew that he was holding something back. More determined that ever, she marched over to his closet.

His grin should have warned her, but when she opened the doors, Sansa was in walk-in closet heaven. It was something straight from her dreams, and she moaned the way she might if she had something particularly delicious in her mouth.

And then her eyes narrowed as she discovered Sandor's secret. The man had every single high-end designer label in his closet, along with matching shoes; everyone from Ferragamo to Louboutin to Gucci. And all of them backlit with lights, a mirror and a ladder. She moaned again. Who knew she’d lose her mind over a dream closet?

"Holy freaking crap," she whispered, running her hands over the luxurious suits. She turned and pinned him with a look. "You're a clothes horse!"

He threw his head back and laughed, completely open at that moment. He shrugged. "Tywin Lannister knows a good suit."

"No kidding," she muttered, wanting to live in here. He had to have spent more money on clothes than she did.

"I love this closet, Sandor. Love it," she told him, noting that even with his extensive wardrobe, there was still plenty of space for more clothes.

"Come on, shallow bird, let's see more."

She whimpered as he closed the door and then shivered when he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I'll let you look again if you're a good girl."

Red hot lust slammed through her body, welcome and delightful.

Gods, she had to get a hold of herself. So far, and she'd only seen half of his house, she had already pictured their children in the kitchen and her clothes in his closet. She'd freak him out if he could see what was going on in her brain, and even more so because she'd been the one who said she needed slow- that she needed time.

Now she was mentally picturing herself freaking living here and loving it. The entire house called to her was her dream. Gods, she was a freak! She'd never had this type of reaction to a man before- ever. Perhaps she’d been ‘out’ of her relationship with Harry for longer than she thought. Nothing about her wanted slow with this man who was still holding her hand, giving her a tour of the most perfect house she’d ever seen.

Three upstairs bedrooms? Perfect for a couple with young children.

Massive kitchen? They'd need it, between her family and friends and his teammates.

Closet of her dreams? Hell, there was still room for her clothes and shoes.

Now they were downstairs, and she got a glimpse of his life before he’d moved here. Hockey awards, his first jersey, pictures of him with his teammates. A replica of the championship trophy he’d won last year and his MVP award. There were even some pictures with the Lannister's.

She picked up the one of him between Jaime and Tywin.

"Oh, it's Jaime Lannister," she said, making her voice dreamy as Sandor snarled and snatched the picture out of her hand.

"Fucking asshole," she thought she heard him mutter as she giggled.

"He was my favourite player for years," she continued, seeing his jaw clench. Then she leaned up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips across his. "But not anymore."

"Yeah? Who is?" he asked hope and uncertainty warring in his voice.

What had been a joke turned serious.

"I think you know, Sandor Clegane. You're the first hockey player I've ever kissed."

He dragged her closer as Sansa shimmied up his body, winding her hands around his neck and her legs around his middle. His hands were on her ass as he held her there, easily, his huge body both protective and provocative. She was pinned between him and the wall and all that hard male flesh that was Sandor practically had her panting.

"Better believe that I'm going to be the last one," he said before he tilted his head and captured her mouth, making her moan as she tried to get closer to him.

She loved how he kissed her, full of obvious need and desire. There were no games with Sandor if the hard dick rubbing against her crotch was any indication. He wanted her and wasn't holding back on showing her how much.

Sansa dove headfirst into the kiss, tugging at his hair, nipping at him, thrusting her tongue into his mouth as he'd done to her. She wanted this man, of that there was no doubt. He made her whole body feel alive like she was on fire, and he was the only thing that could cool her off. His big, strong hands kneaded her ass through her skirt and the tiny panties she had put on. Panties that were soaking wet and screaming at her for MORE!

Thank gods he had his wits because he was the one who drew back with a ragged sigh.

"Jesus, Sansa. We need to stop before I fuck you against this wall."

She shuddered delightfully at the thought. She was sure if any man could take her this way, it would be this one who currently had her in his arms. She rubbed herself against him again, loving the friction.

"Not helping, little bird." His grey eyes were smoke, filled with desire, lust and something deeper. Sansa could tell he was restraining himself. For her. Because she’d asked for time. Gods, this man!

And just like that, something more than lust hummed through her. This was more. She knew it. He knew. Hell, her family knew it. And yet, they'd barely tolerated each other a few days ago. She knew that if she allowed it, this man would have the power to utterly destroy her. He wouldn’t allow her to hold back on her feelings, on what this was. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Reluctantly, she climbed off him and straightened her clothing.

"You're right," she sighed and retook his hand. "Sorry, I got carried away."

Sandor rumbled out a laugh. "Don't say fucking sorry. You're the hottest thing I've ever seen. I want you, Sansa. But not for a night or a week. I won't rush this."

Sansa had to blink back tears. "No, this isn't a one-time thing, I agree." She brushed her lips softly against his again. "Thank you; for keeping your head."

He nodded and then cupped her cheek, brushing his big thumb over it. "I want all of you, Sansa. Not just your body and not just if this is a rebound. I'm not some rookie that needs to get his dick wet; I can wait until the time is right for you to catch up."

Sniffling now, she nodded and pressed a kiss to his palm. "I'm getting there, Sandor. I promise."

"I know. Now, let's eat. I'm starving."

She threw her head back and laughed and watched as he shook his head.

"You're killing me, woman," he muttered as they walked back upstairs.

Once there, Sansa realized that it was supper time and that he really must be starving. The dreary day had made it seem later than it was, and she loved the warm light that flooded the kitchen. Sandor sat her at the island and asked what she wanted to drink. When she chose a diet pop, her eyes widened when he took a can from the fridge.

"You keep those here for just anyone?"

He blushed.

It was adorable.

"No," he mumbled and then dove back into the fridge to take out veggies and meat. He got the rice going in a cooker and pots and pans magically appeared as Sansa sat back and watched the toughest guy in the WHL cook for her.

It was fascinating, and Sansa knew the moment she could publicly declare she was done with Harry (in another eight days), she was claiming this man as her boyfriend for everyone in Westeros to know that he was taken. He was hers.

She loved seeing him cut veggies and meat, mix his sauce. He’d taken off his hoody, so he was in his t-shirt, tats on full display. Sansa was mesmerized by them.

"How did you learn to cook?" she asked, his ink drawing her eye more than once. It appeared Sandor Clegane cooking was her kryptonite.

He shrugged, dumping chicken into hot sesame oil that was flavoured with fresh garlic and ginger.

"My Mom died when I was eight. When there was food in the house, I figured out fast if I wanted to eat, I had to learn how to make it." He gave her a look as if testing how she might react to that statement.

Sansa felt her heartbreak for him, but outwardly she just nodded.

"Make sense. I'm a terrible cook."

"You?"

She nodded. "Yup. We had Mordane, who did a lot of the cooking in our house. And then so much figure skating practices and my Mom was amazing at it. I just never took the time to really learn. I mean, I can do the basics, but …"

Sandor nodded.

"Addam taught me as well. He and his wife, Brenda."

"Who’s Addam?"

Sandor's grey eyes went wary, and he took a sip of water before answering. "He was my billet Dad for six years. Took me in when I was twelve."

"He sounds nice." Sansa knew that was an understatement. Addam sounded like a hero and she wanted to hug the man for giving Sandor a home.

Sandor nodded. "He was. My house was a fucking nightmare. I thought they were the richest people in Westeros when they brought me home." He snorted. Then he crossed the room and picked up a picture frame and brought it back to Sansa.

"That's them."

Sansa took the picture and saw a younger Sandor, not as big as he was now, with his arms wrapped around a middle-aged couple, a lions jersey on his body.

"Draft?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I went first overall."

Sansa knew this, of course. Sandor had been the talk of the league thirteen years ago when he’d first become eligible to go pro.

In the picture, she could see that Sandor's scar was worse. He hadn't had any reconstructive surgery done yet. It was hideous if only for the pain she knew he must have been in to have received it, but as far as she could see, it took nothing from his rugged handsomeness.

"I'm thinking of asking if they want to come for the opening night game here in Wintertown." He made a vague gesture to the enormous house. "I have space."

"Oh, Sandor, I'm sure they'd love that."

He nodded and then gently took the picture from her. "Dinner's ready," was all he said.

Sansa knew something had changed since she’d stepped foot in his house. Something big. Something huge. Sandor was letting her in, and she wanted more.

For now, though, she'd focus on the present and the fact that Sandor Clegane, the WHL's reigning bad boy and all-star defenseman, the ten million dollars a year man, had just made her a homecooked meal.

In three years, Harry would barely order take out for them, and here Sandor was making her dinner. Delicious, yummy dinner that Sansa moaned through every bite.

"You're doing that on purpose, aren't you," he scowled at her, and she grinned. Then she propped her foot on his massive thigh and pushed.

"I am."

"You trying to kill me?" he asked, and she shook her head, eyes dancing.

"Nope. I just don't want to suffer alone."

The look he gave her made sure she knew she wasn't.

Taking pity on him, Sansa asked him about the team, loving how he lit up when he discussed hockey.

When they were done eating, Sansa insisted on helping him with the dishes, then dragged him into the great room and curled up on the couch. Sandor stood there, looking at her. She patted the seat beside her.

"I won't bite," she said, winking at him, and he growled and sat down beside her. When he lifted his arm, she cuddled into him.

"What do you want to watch?" she asked.

Sandor just shook his head. "You choose."

"You sure?"

He nodded, never taking his eyes from her. Sansa put on _Nailed It_, knowing it would keep them both entertained, while maybe allowing for a hot make-out session on the couch.

Maybe.

Sansa knew Sandor was watching when some guy made a particularly awful cake pop, and he was yelling at him, and Sansa fell just a little bit more for the big man.

She twisted out of his arms and shimmied onto his lap, show forgotten as she was in a perfect position for him to focus on just her.

"Iwantyoutobemyboyfriendbutwecan'tgopublicyet."

Sandor arched an eyebrow. "Care to repeat that?"

Sansa blushed and kissed him. Once. Then she sat back, winding her arms around his neck. Gods, she loved his neck. And his tats. They poked out from his chest and towards his well-defined shoulders, and she wanted to spend a whole afternoon tracing them with her tongue. She'd watched them as they'd moved on his skin as he'd cooked for them, and she was fascinated. She wondered if he'd let her do a video on them.

"I want you to be my boyfriend, but we can't go public yet. And I feel like an ass for saying that."

Sandor frowned. "What does public mean to you, Sansa?"

She waved a hand. "You know, post it on Instagram, my YouTube page. Facebook, Tumblr, twitter. Public."

"But everyone else? Like your parents and your brothers. My teammates and your friends. They'd all know if we were to do this."

Sansa smiled. "Of course. I just promised Dany Drogo that I wouldn't post anyone online until her campaign with Harry is done."

"When is it done?"

"Eight days."

"But we'd still be together, and all the real people in our lives would know. About us?" Sandor asked, his face serious. Sansa knew this was important to him.

Sansa nodded. "Is that ok?" she all but whispered, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Sandor rubbed his arms up hers and then gently brought her face down to his. For a big powerful man, he was shockingly sweet with her.

"That is perfect, little bird."

Then his lips were on his again, and Sansa sunk onto him, pressing herself against the hard plains of his chest as he carded his hands through her hair and proceeded to kiss the breath right out of her. The man’s muscles had muscles and her hands itched to explore.

When they finally stopped, both were uncomfortably horny and turned on, but somehow content as well. Sandor tucked her against him and told her not to move.

"I like holding you, so stop squirming," he whispered into her ear and Sansa snuggled closer to him.

"I'm not too heavy, am I?" she asked, suddenly concerned, and he snorted.

"No," was all he said, and Sansa smiled, resting a hand on his chest as he held her close.

"For fuck sakes, these people are fucking awful," he was saying, watching another epic baking fail. "I don't know how much more of this shit I can watch, little bird."

Sansa laughed. "I'm surprised you lasted this long. Next time, I'll let you pick."

"I like the sound of that."

"Picking the next show?"

"A next time."

Sansa tilted her head for a kiss. "Sandor, boyfriend, remember? Of course, there will be a next time. My only rule is if we start a show together, you can't watch episodes without me. Promise?"

He grunted and squeezed her closer. "Promise."

They sat for a few minutes and then reluctantly parted, Sandor insisting he drive her home. The romantic in Sansa loved it. Who would have ever thought that a man that could literally break bones in his day job was the best boyfriend she'd ever had?

He idled the car when he pulled into Winterfell's driveway just as Sansa's phone chimed.

"It's Jeyne. She says the adoption is a go if you want to come by tomorrow afternoon."

Sandor nodded, and Sansa saw his hand tighten on the steering wheel. "Sandor, it's ok if you can't take her. She's a lot of work, and I know how dedicated you are to hockey."

He grunted and then grasped her hand. "Do you think she wants me?"

Sansa's heart almost shattered for this man. This big, strong man who had so much pain in his life.

"Oh gods, Sandor, yes. I bet she hasn't let your jersey go, and your house is perfect for her. Huge yard and plenty of space for her."

"You'll help?"

Sansa nodded, trying to choke back the emotion that was welling up in her. "With whatever you need. And Rickon as well, Sandor. When you guys are out of town, she can come here, or if you're comfortable, I can stay in one of your guest rooms with her."

"We have practice tomorrow morning, but we could go and buy the stuff after that. And then go get her."

Sansa squeezed his hand. "I think that's perfect. I'll tell Jeyne and Ric."

Sansa unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over, drawing his face to hers. "Thank you for being you," she whispered and kissed him, making it soft and sweet and full of promise. "Thank you for trusting me with you, Sandor."

Too choked up, he could only nod, and then drag her lips back to his.

Gods this man and what he did to her.

Sansa had never been so invested and so excited in a relationship in her whole life. When they finally parted, she quirked her lips. "Night boyfriend."

He gave her a small smile. "Night little bird."

With one last smile and hand squeeze, Sansa was out of the car and headed for her home, filled with thoughts of Sandor, Sweetie and a house a few blocks away that she couldn't stop seeing herself in.

_ Sandor  _

As Sandor watched Sansa slip inside her little house, he couldn't help but wonder if there was some sort of power that she had over him. For a man that had revealed almost none of his past to anyone, he seemed unable to keep anything from her.

And each time he had, she rolled with it. She never gazed at him in pity, or horror, or overreacted. She'd simply taken whatever fear he'd shared with him, absorbed it and then moved the conversation along.

It was fascinating.

It was freeing.

It was fucking addicting.

Sansa going through his house? Jesus fucking Christ. He'd started thinking of her there, all the time. He wanted to promise he'd fill his huge closet with half her stuff. Fuck, for her, he'd build a bigger one and let her move all her shit in.

Did she want a make-up station? An office? To give him his firstborn? Where the fuck did he sign up?

Because seeing her there, he knew it was right. He knew it, down to the marrow of his bones.

When he pulled back into his garage, he wondered what it might be like, to be away, on the road, and know that she was here. Sleep in his guest room?

Fuck, he'd offer her his bed and then sick fuck that he was, inhale her scent when he came home, and she was gone again. It would be both perfection and torture.

He had just about busted a nut when he had her perky ass in his hands, her crawling all over him when she'd made that remark about Jaime Lannister. He'd bring her to fucking Lannisport and show her what a pansy Jaime truly was. Then they'd see who was her favourite player.

_Fucking Lannister_, Sandor thought, tossing his keys in a little bowl on his kitchen island.

He grabbed a water and headed up the stairs, swearing he could smell lemons and some type of flower in his home. Surprisingly he didn't hate it. Sandor grinned as he stripped down and climbed into his shower, thinking of Sansa's reaction to his closet. He knew that was what would impress her.

Then he thought of kissing her as the hot water sluiced over his body. He'd been hard for hours, with her here, and he groaned as he took his dick in his hand. He stroked himself leisurely, thinking of her mouth, her ass, her moans. It had taken all his willpower not to coax her into his bed and try that out, but he'd do what she asked and try to take things slowly.

Still, he wasn't going to walk around with blue balls, and he was sure his girlfriend (and wasn't that a fucking trip), wouldn't care too much if he jerked one out imagining her lips around his dick.

When he came, Sandor had to brace a hand against the stone shower, rope after rope of semen splattering in front of him as he let out a guttural cry, thinking what it might be like to spend inside her.

Wrung dry, Sandor washed quickly, before exiting his impressive bathroom and crossing the room to pick up his phone.

When he did he saw an email from Jeyne. She'd attached a picture of Sweetie, looking happier and curled up on his Wolves jersey. There was also a list of everything she would need, and Sandor frowned. No way was all that shit fitting in the Aston.

**Sandor**: Hey, Ric. We might need to take your truck as well for dog adoption day tomorrow. Not sure I can get a crate in the Aston.

**Ric**: Hey, man! It's tomorrow? Awesome, yeah, I'll drive my truck. I'm bringing San with me. She's coming to practice, so go easy on me if we're on opposite teams ok

**Sandor**: Never rookie. You're mine.

**Ric**: Your bark is worse than your bite.

**Sandor**: You sure about that?

**Ric**: LOL! Hope so! Night, man. See you in the am.

Sandor smiled, wondering how it was he'd become so close with Sansa's youngest brother. The kid was always happy. And he was amazing on the ice.

Sandor saved the picture of Sweetie, more touched than he wanted to admit. Then before he could question himself, he sent it to Sansa.

**Sansa**: OMG!!!! OMG OMG OMG!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ She is precious. OMG. Sandor LOOK AT HER. She's curled up with your jersey!!!!! See, I told you she knows who her Daddy is!!! EEEEK, I'm so excited for tomorrow. 🐶 🤩🤩

Sandor chuckled. He could practically hear her voice and her excitement. Sansa was sunshine in his dreary life.

**Sandor**: alright, calm down.

**Sansa**: Oh, Sandor, she's so amazing. I can't wait until tomorrow. I am so excited, and so is Ric. Thanks for bringing him along. 💋😘😍🥰

Sandor had no idea what it was like to be in a healthy, properly functioning family. But damn if these Starks didn't make it seem effortless. They just seemed to welcome him in, and he was almost waiting for the other shoe to drop. When they would realize he was just trash, from the wrong side of the rink, and not worthy of their princess.

Still, he knew after seeing Sansa in his house, and he'd fight for her. Harry, her family, Ramsay. Anyone who might stand in their way, Sandor would remove. Sansa was his, and he meant to keep her happy for the rest of her life.

_ Sandor – Adoption Day _

The next morning was sunny, but knowing they had to shop and get the dog, Sandor took the Aston to the rink. He pulled up just as Ric was parking and quickly took the spot beside him. He wondered briefly how this might go after they’d agreed to officially become a couple.

Sansa solved that problem right away. She crossed to his vehicle, took his hand and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.

"Hi handsome," she said, laying a hand on his chest. Other guys were pulling up, and the wolf whistles and catcalls might have annoyed him if she hadn't so obviously declared them to be together. Who would have thought he’d end up with the girl?

"Hi, little bird. These fuckers might give us a hard time." He was scowling over her shoulder as Bronn and Tormund were dry humping each other, trying to get a rise out of him.

Sansa arched an elegant eyebrow and turned, pinning both of them with a look. "Aww, it's so awesome that you two don't care that everyone knows you're sleeping together. Maybe you could interview on my channel as the WHL's first openly gay couple."

Both men snapped to attention and jumped apart from one another, as Sansa grinned at them.

"Fierce," Sandor whispered to her.

"You betcha babe. Nobody fucks with my guy."

Sandor fucking strutted into the rink holding Sansa's hand.

_Jesus, this woman_, he thought. She was gorgeous, independently wealthy, successful, caring, and she loved hockey. She could chirp with the guys and give as good as she got. And she was his. His girlfriend!

"You're a lucky man, dog," Tormund said, patting him on the back.

Before they got to the dressing room, Sansa tugged on Sandor's hand. "Is it ok if I'm here? I mean, we've never really talked about it, and if it's weird, I can just go watch in the stands."

Sandor silenced her with a kiss. "Quit chirping little bird. I know this is in your blood. So you do your thing, and if you can, be fucking brutal with me. I want to be as good as I can be this year."

"Yeah?" she said, eyes lighting in excitement.

"Yeah, babe. I love it. You're badass, Sansa Stark."

They were grinning like fools at each other, as Robb, Jon and Theon walked into the rink, the two of them bugging Robb that he hadn't come out with them last night. Robb shot Sansa and Sandor a look and then went back to arguing with Jon.

"I just didn't feel like picking up another bunny," Robb was saying, exasperation evident in his voice as they entered the dressing room.

Sansa gave Sandor a look. "I told him to quit fucking around if he wanted a chance with Dacey."

Sansa wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down for another kiss. "You're a good man, Sandor," she purred, making his dick hard as a rock.

"Fucking hells, woman. How am I going to walk in there with a raging hard-on?"

Sansa laughed and kissed him again. Then she slapped his butt. "Go change, big guy. I'll see you on the ice."

"Yeah, big guy. Go change," came Ramsay's oily voice as Sansa and Sandor turned as one.

"It's rude to spy on people," she huffed at the man Sandor was coming to hate. Then she grabbed Sandor and kissed him again, leaning up to whisper in his ear. "Check him into next week, babe."

Sandor rumbled out a laugh in her ear. "Got it."

Then Sansa was gone, and Sandor was left alone with Ramsay. He sauntered up to him, slow and deliberate. Ramsay's father had been an all-star forward back in the day when Ned and Jaime played. Roose Bolton had been a hard as nails fucker that was able to take incredible pain and deal out punishing hits. He was smart and ruthless and had more than earned the reputation he had.

As far as Sandor could tell, Ramsay was skating on his father's coattails.

Sandor watched as Ramsay's eye went full and then narrowed as he came closer to him. "Let me be clear, in case you had any doubts. Don't ever fucking look at her that way again."

Ramsay smirked.

Quick as lightning, Sandor leaned in and reached down, grabbing the man by his balls. He twisted, as Ramsay screamed in pain. The man would have crumpled had Sandor not been holding him by his junk. He leaned in closer.

"Don't. Ever. Fucking. Look. At. Her. Again." With one more twist, Sandor continued. "I'll fucking destroy you with my bare hands if you upset her in any way. Sansa Stark is off fucking limits to you. We clear?"

Ramsay nodded, tears streaming down his face. "Clear."

Feeling better now that they'd cleared the air, and Sandor had made his position abundantly clear when it came to Sansa, he couldn't wait to get on the ice. He let Ramsay go as the man fell to the floor, clutching at his privates.

Then Sandor dressed and hit the ice. He was flying. Sandor hit anything that moved, grateful Ric was on his squad today. There was something about having the woman you liked watching you play. It elevated his game like nothing else and he knew he was the best player on the ice.

Sandor also loved that Sansa wasn’t just watching but picking apart his game. He fucking loved it. She was smart, so hockey savvy. She'd already pointed out how he cheated to one side, giving away his shooting lane. He corrected it and saw it pay off immediately. He knew having Sansa there made him even more of a beast.

He couldn't imagine what it might be like for her to wear his jersey on a game night. He'd fucking love to see that.

Every so often, she'd give him a little smile or a thumbs up, and Sandor knew that more than anyone, she was there for him. No one, not even Addam, had been so in his corner.

Sandor knew that she was helping Ned and Coach Cassel with the final cuts. Next weekend they were scheduled for their first pre-season games in King's Landing. Final cuts were planned for any day now, and he had a meeting with Coach Stark and Cassel tomorrow to talk about the team.

After practice, he showered quickly and clapped Ric on the back. "Ready rookie?"

"Yeah, for sure. I'm super excited." Ric was practically bouncing as he and Sandor walked out into the hallway to see Sansa standing there. Sandor knew she was one of the sexiest women he'd ever seen, and he loved her skinning jeans, boots and black sweater that hugged her curves.

"Hi baby," she said to Sandor, kissing him and wrapping herself around him. He kissed her back, not caring that the team was pouring out of the change room around them.

"Fucking hell Clegane, give the woman air," Bronn complained.

"You dirty dog," Tormund said, howling at his pun as Sandor growled into her mouth.

Sansa giggled. "Come on. Let's go shopping for Sweetie and then pick her up."

Rickon looked a bit embarrassed. "So you two are a thing, huh. Like a real thing?"

"Yup. Boyfriend and girlfriend."

"Sweet," Ric said, rolling with it and hopping into his truck. "Which pet store?"

Sandor looked to Sansa. "How about the one by the shelter? Jeyne uses it all the time."

Ric nodded. "Cool. See you there. Try not to suck my sister's face off, Sandor."

Then he laughed and peeled out of the parking lot.

Sandor snarled at him but he was already gone.

"We'd better go. Ric can shop with the best of them,” Sansa said, all but laughing at him.

Sansa hadn't been lying. Sandor watched in amazement as Rickon and Sansa filled two carts worth of stuff for his dog. Two beds, leashes, collars, dog food, bowls, chew toys, cookies, and balls. There was something called a Kong that Ric insisted the dog needed as well as a Chuck-It and rope toy. They also got her a crate and an x-pen.

When it was all said and done, Sandor happily handed over a black credit card, not even noticing when the cashier kept sneaking glances at him and Ric. He didn't care about how much it all cost, which was not important as he could afford it. What stunned him, was to have people helping him with this. Somehow the solitary man had gained a family.

They loaded everything into Ric's truck and then went over to the shelter. As if knowing he was nervous, Sansa took his hand. "It will be fine, baby."

Sandor's heart thumped faster when she called him baby.

Gods, him, someone's baby. It was ludicrous. And he fucking loved it.

"I know."

They were quiet as the Aston pulled into the shelter's parking lot, and Sandor took a deep breath. "I hope she remembers me."

Sansa rubbed a hand over his broad shoulders. "She will."

Sandor heaved out a breath and then brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Let's do this, Sansa."

They walked hand in hand into the shelter, Ric beside them. Jeyne was waiting. She spent a couple of days a week here, and she wanted to be here for this adoption. Sweetie was a special case.

"You guys are here!" she cried, clapping her hands.

"We are. Hi Jeyne," Sansa said, squeezing Sandor's hand. "How is she?"

Jeyne smiled. "She's good. Ready to go home. We'll just finish the paperwork and take you back."

That was done quickly, and Jeyne rose. "Let's go get her." Waiting for them was Shelley, who smiled at Sandor and Sansa.

"So, you've decided?"

Sandor nodded. "I have."

"Good. She's barely moved from your jersey. Sometimes she packs it around."

Sandor felt something warm at that thought.

"Well, let's do this."

Ric's excited dimmed a bit as they went through the shelter, as they passed cage after cage with dogs waiting for homes. They were a no-kill shelter, but some of these dogs had been here for a while, like Sweetie.

When they finally got to the end, she was there, and standing, as if she knew Sandor was coming for her. When she saw him, she started to whine and wag her tail, and Sandor dropped to his knees, putting his hands on the door to her cage.

"Hey girl," Sandor rumbled, sticking his hand out as Sweetie came over and licked his hand. Then she wiggled, and Sandor looked up to Jeyne.

"Can I go in?"

"Sure."

She opened the door, and then Sandor scurried inside, Sansa close behind him. When they were in, Sandor sat his ass down, and Sweetie wiggled over to him, clearly the omega to his alpha. He patted his lap, and she wiggled her way onto it and then just melted into him, reaching up to lick at him as his big hands petted and scratched her all over.

Sansa was leaning against his shoulder, and Sweetie licked her hand as his girlfriend laughed and cried and told his dog how pretty she was.

Sandor ran his hands over all the marks on her body. Her ears had been cropped, probably when she was a pup to make her look meaner, but he didn't mind. He'd never, ever do that to any dog of his, but she had a big, open, happy smile on her face that made any meanness in her disappearance.

Shelley and Jeyne were going over what she liked; naps, walks, balls, squeaky toys and cheese were the highlights. And what she didn't; aggressive men, thunderstorms, cats and small spaces.

"Good thing, your house is huge," Rickon piped up.

"Go slow with her. She doesn't need to be muzzled, but a good sturdy harness when you walk her is what we recommend. She should be introduced only to other dogs when you have space, and you trust both dog and owner."

Jeyne sighed and looked at both of them. "I won't lie. Pitbulls have a shit reputation, and most of it is totally undeserved. She has never shown any aggression towards anyone except one guy that seemed sketchy when we first got her. We've had her with loads of other dogs, and she's done just fine. But for now, I'm happy she's going to be the only dog. She deserves to be a pampered princess for a while."

"Oh, we will pamper her alright, won't we baby," Sansa was crooning to his dog as she kissed her snout and Sweetie licked at her. "Daddy has a pretty car that you're going to love. And a huge backyard."

Sandor sat that in stunned awe of Sansa, picturing more than just his dog loving his car and his house. Somehow when Sansa spoke like that the idea of kids and them and maybe even another dog filled his mind. Somehow, he pictured Sansa loving him.

And that fucking pronoun _we_? Jesus, that shit almost killed him.

When he slipped Sweetie's new harness on, she sat perfectly still as if she knew this was it; she was going home. Sandor clipped the leash, and then they opened the door, and she daintily stepped out on her best fucking behaviour as she walked past all the other dogs still waiting for their matches.

Jeyne and Shelley were a sobbing mess as they said goodbye to her at the front door, and then they pushed outside into the sunshine and Sweetie gave a soft bark.

"Freedom, huh," Ric said, grinning at her. He held out his hand, which she sniffed and then licked and then he dropped to his knees. "Awesome is right girl. You get to go home." Rickon hugged his dog who wiggled in his arms. When Ric gazed up at him, his eyes were wet. “She’s amazing Sandor.”

The lump in Sandor's throat threatened to choke him as they walked to his car. He frowned slightly at the thought of a dog in his pristine Aston, but when she sat and looked up at him, those thoughts vanished. He opened Sansa's door, and Sweetie hopped in the back, and then Sandor helped Sansa in.

They cruised through Wintertown, the dog sitting perfectly still in the back of his car, Sansa's hand on his massive thigh, and a feeling of rightness stealing over Sandor. When they got to his house, they dealt with Sweetie first, letting her sniff everything and then bringing her into the backyard.

At first, she seemed uncertain, as if she weren't quite sure that all this space was for her. Then Ric appeared with his Kong toy and threw it for her in the backyard, and she raced after it, hurtling herself into the grass and then sprinting back. Ric yelled in joy and threw for half an hour, as she went hard. When she'd done her business, they finally brought her into the house, and she wiggled and sniffed her way through every room.

"Put a bed in the Great Room," Sandor told Rickon, who, like a good rookie, had helped pack everything in. Sandor looked at the crate and then the dog bed, and vowed he'd never lock her away at night. Both Jeyne and Shelley had told him she was crate trained, but he still thought she could be loose when he was here.

Sandor was watching her sniff and wander through the house when Sansa's arms came around him. "Happy?"

"Yeah. She seems to like it here."

Sansa laughed and kissed his back as Sandor grabbed her hands and held her there. "Sandor, your house is amazing. Who wouldn't love it here?"

Ric stayed for another hour as they got things put away and then finally took off.

"To give the three of you privacy." He winked and was gone before Sandor could respond.

The dog was passed out on her dog bed in front of the fireplace Sandor was still too chicken to use. A large growl from his stomach alerted him to the fact that he hadn't eaten, so he left Sansa on the couch, scrolling through her Instagram feed and went to the kitchen to make them dinner. His girlfriend was many things, but kitchen inclined was not one of them.

She joined him a short time later, Sweetie, on her heels. "I think she wants to be where we are," Sansa said, making an appreciative noise at the homemade chicken alfredo pasta that Sandor had made.

"Hungry?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Gods, you're such a catch — beautiful house, awesome job, amazing dog and handsome. How are you single?" she teased, and Sandor had to keep his mouth from dropping open.

She saw his face, didn't she? He was a big fucker, mean and had a mouth on him.

Sure he had muscles, but he was hairy and had barely gotten his high school diploma. He wasn’t dumb, but in the vast world of eligible men, Sandor knew where he ranked.

"You see my face, right?" he asked her bluntly, stopping Sansa in her tracks. She turned and assessed him, her blue eyes curious.

"I have. Your point?"

He gestured to it. "Scared a lot of people off with this ugly mug, little bird."

She snorted at him. "You're a handsome man, Sandor. Yes," she held up a hand and narrowed her eyes at him. "The scarring is bad. I know it was worse. But even with it worse, you were still attractive."

Sandor's mouth dropped open.

"So there must be a reason a guy like you is single. Have I mentioned your body? And the tats. God, Sandor. The tats alone. So how come you're single?"

"Cause I'm a mean fucker that doesn't let anyone get close," he all but snarled at her.

She took a bite of pasta, moaning and not at all concerned about the attitude he was giving her.

"Ok, fair enough. But you've been nice to Ric. And you get along with my Dad. My Mom likes you. Hell, even Arya and Robb like you. And you know how I feel. So, is it just us? Does Sandor Clegane have something for the Starks?"

Sandor shook his head at her and chuckled softly. "Fuck if I know."

She grinned. "I'm glad you scared off all those other women, Sandor."

"Are you?"

She nodded. "This," she gestured with her fork, "This is something. And don't tell me you don't feel it as well."

He swallowed hard. "I feel it."

"Good." Then Sansa picked up her plate of food and wandered back out to the couch in the Great Room. "I'm going to eat out here. Join me."

Powerless to stop himself from following her every command, Sandor sat down beside her as she put some show on about some chick that thought she was in heaven mistakenly.

Sandor didn't give a fuck. Sansa was tucked up beside him, eating his food and laughing, touching him and making his house a home. His dog was curled up at his feet and snoring softly. And for the first time in his entire life, Sandor Clegane felt like he belonged like he was right where he was supposed to be.

He leaned over and brushed his lips across Sansa's forehead in a move that carried a wealth of meaning.

"I'm glad I scared off any potential women as well. But just for the record, I don't think there were that many willing to take a chance on a dog like me, Sansa."

She gazed into her eyes. "Then they were fools. And I'll gladly reap the benefits."

Sandor nodded as she rose and grabbed their plates. "Stay," she told him and disappeared for a few minutes, coming back and curling up against him. She laid a hand on his chest and kissed him before he heard her say, "I'm right where I want to be Sandor."

"So am I, little bird, so am I."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next
> 
> Pre-season games in King's Landing, Sansa stays with Sweetie and just more Sansan and hockey and the goodness of this story!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more Sansan

_ Sansa _

The next few days flew by for Sansa. She was riding high from her back to back to back dates with Sandor. They'd spent Friday night, Sunday afternoon, Monday evening and then most of Tuesday together.

She knew that the team would demand much of his attention for the rest of the week. Her Dad and Coach Cassel were making the final cuts, and both Robb and Sandor's opinions were needed. Since he'd taken Sweetie home, Sansa had only been by to see them once, finding Sandor and the dog in his backyard, playing tug of war with her rope toy. Sweetie was in heaven. And judging by the grin on Sandor’s face, he was as well.

The first night with Sweetie, after Sandor had taken Sansa home, he'd sent her a picture of her snoring on his bed.

**Sansa**: Lucky dog

**Sandor**: Option always available, LB

**Sansa**: You're a tease

**Sandor**: You're just jealous of another woman in my bed

**Sansa**: I am. But she looks so adorable I can't be mad for long

Sansa didn't try to lecture Sandor on his dog sleeping in his bed. Both of them had such a rough life, that who was she to deny them both this little bit of comfort? Besides, that bed was big enough for the three of them.

Sansa blushed when she thought about that but wouldn't deny her feelings for Sandor. They seemed to grow exponentially by the day.

Still, their busy schedules had kept them apart this week and she missed seeing him. Texting and talking on the phone wasn’t the same.

Her Mom had more treatments this week, and Sansa had a ton of videos to catch up on. She'd meant to test out some new foundations that she had picked up, as well as post a video about complementary colours for fall. She also needed to carve out some time for Yohn and some of their new products and make some videos of those as well. Whenever Sansa debuted something from her own line, it generally sold out.

She'd been posting pictures daily to her IG account and loved how much people seemed to love her being back in the North. Plus the leaves were just starting to change, so she had a spectacular background to work with.

She loved being back in the North, Sansa thought on her Friday morning run. She was going over her schedule, knowing she could pop in and see the guys at practice before she was meeting Jeyne, Dacey and Wyn for lunch at a new restaurant in the downtown. This life she was building for herself was pretty spectacular, and she was so happy she’d made the move to come back home.

Her phone buzzed, and Sansa saw it was her Mom calling. She accepted the call as she huffed through her next mile.

"Hey, Mom, what's up?"

Catelyn had been doing well with her treatments, but now that they were into week three, the doctor said some of the nastier side effects of chemo. Since Catelyn had Stage 2 breast cancer, her initial chemo treatments were scheduled for three months, and then the oncologist would reassess.

Through it all, her mother had kept her sharp wit and compassion, and Sansa knew the move to come back home was a good one. And not just because of a 6'6 hunk of man that she had very naughty dreams of. She was a Stark and Stark’s belonged in the North.

"I think you should invite Sandor to dinner this Sunday, dear," Catelyn said, and Sansa almost stumbled over the curb.

"Really?"

Everyone knew that the Catelyn Stark Sunday night invitation to dinner was a guaranteed sign that the matriarch of the Stark clan approved of that person.

"He's a good man, Sansa." Cat paused. "Sometimes, Sansa, you just know when you meet the one."

Sansa knew what her mother was referring to. She had grown up on her parents' love story.

Ned had eighteen when he was drafted into the WHL. A few years later, they'd met at some big fundraiser event attended by all the big wigs in Westeros.

Not many people around her knew, but Sansa's grandfather was loaded. He might not be Tywin Lannister rich, but Hoster Tully had done very well for himself. The Starks were no slouches when it came to old family money, but Catelyn Tully had been a pampered society princess.

And then she'd met Ned Stark and fallen hard for the hockey player instantly. They were married within a year, and Robb had been born ten months later. Catelyn often said she took one look at Ned, gunning down thirty-dollar glasses of whiskey as if it was water that night, and just knew.

And from the love that their parents shared, Sansa knew that was what she wanted.

Sansa slowed to a walk and thought about Sandor. _Was her Mom, right? Was he the one? Did she already know this?_

Sansa thought about how comfortable she was with him, how easy things were and yet, there was so much chemistry there.

"I like him so much, Mom."

Her Mom chuckled softly. "I know, dear. I've never seen you like this with anyone else. So bring him by. Oh and his dog as well. I take it you can extend the invite when you see him today?"

"I will. Mom, thanks."

"Anytime, Sansa. I'm so glad you two have found one another."

Sansa hung up on her Mom and resumed her run, wondering if she and Sandor would have as much luck in love and life as her parents. She certainly hoped so.

* * *

Freshly showered, changed, dressed and with a light coating of make-up, Sansa checked herself once more in the mirror. They were in the weird time in the North when one day it could almost feel like summer, the next as if winter would have the entire region in its icy grip.

But today, it was sunny and warm, and Sansa was wearing a short white dress, with eyelet cut-outs and cute boots. She hoped to god Sandor didn't have his bike because she'd be flashing everyone if he were to offer her a ride. Not wanting to give that up should the opportunity arise, she chucked a pair of leggings into her green Birkin bag and was out the door, eager to go to the rink and then see her girls. They had so much catching up to do.

Of course, the selfie she had posted before she left the house had almost twenty thousand likes by the time she arrived at the rink. Grinning, she waved the security guard Ralph who smiled back.

"Hey, Ms. Stark! The team's looking good this year, isn't it?"

Gods, she had missed this. Harry had hated hockey, claiming it was too dull and too violent and that he didn't get it. She'd rarely caught a game in the past few years, after living with it for so long. Now she was back in the thick of things, and she realized how much she loved it. And how much she had missed it. What had she been thinking of being with a man that demanded she changed so much of herself?

"They sure are."

"And your guy? Shit, Ms. Stark, he's a beast."

Sansa nodded, fighting the huge grin. "He is." She loved that Sandor was ‘her guy.’ Damn right he was.

"I can't wait to see him take apart the league," Ralph said, leaning in as if he were sharing a secret with her. "Your Dad thinks he's the best player ever to put on a Wolves jersey."

Sansa knew that was the highest compliment Ned Stark could give. She also knew it was true. Sandor was amazing on the ice, and as far as she could tell, he'd only gotten better since he'd come to the Wolves.

"He's pretty remarkable," Sansa agreed readily. She could happily talk about Sandor and his talent to anyone who wanted to listen. Thank gods that her family was as hockey-mad as she was.

She slipped inside the rink and went and took a seat next to Sam, Jon's friend and their new stats guy. He was brilliant, and Sansa knew that a lot of making the players better came down to analytics and great off ice care.

"Hi Sam, how are things today?" Sansa asked, slipping into a seat beside him. She pulled on the leggings under the dress because it was a hockey rink and she didn’t want to freeze.

"Good Sansa," he said, shoving a second iPad at her that had all his up to date numbers. Sansa hummed as she checked out Sandor, Rickon and Robb. All three looked good.

The team was set now, and much to her dismay, Ramsay Bolton was still here. Her Dad promised he was working on a trade for him, but they're just hadn't been anyone to replace his twenty-five goals this season. Not yet. And he'd all but scurried away anytime Sansa had been here over the past few days. Sansa knew that Sandor had to have done something to him, but so far, neither Ramsay nor Sandor had said a word.

As if just thinking of Sandor drew his attention, Sansa suddenly saw his head raise, and his eyes find hers. She gave him a little wave, saw his smirk, before his attention was once again with the team.

He was a monster on the ice, easily the biggest man out there, and he barked out orders like the Captain he was. Even in practice, he had a C on his jersey, clearly denoting he was in charge. Drill after drill, Sansa sat and watched, transfixed. He was mesmerizing.

It was his skating that set him apart from other defensemen. So many big guys in the WHL had booming shots and crushing checks, but Sandor could move on his skates the way few others could. And backwards? Sansa had never seen anyone as smooth or as easy as him. He dominated the ice out there, and Sansa knew that the entire team was jacked to have him.

She'd overheard Robb and Jon talking about how good he was; how he saw the ice and demanded better from everyone. Everything seemed to be in place for this to be the Wolves’ year for a championship, and leading the way was Sandor Clegane.

Sansa was so fixated on Sandor that she almost missed when Rickon was in the corner, digging out a puck, trying to get it back to the point for a shot.

It happened in a flash; Ramsay, who was on the other team, skated in and checked Ric from behind, driving his stick into her brother's lower back, so Ric crashed awkwardly into the boards.

Sansa shot to her feet, her heart in her throat. Ric lay motionless on the ice, and her Dad's face was ashen as he hurried to his youngest son.

Sansa watched as Sandor skated over to where Ric lay on the ice. Ramsay stood there, almost gleeful at Ric's crumpled form. Before anyone could stop him, and Sansa wasn't sure that anyone would, Sandor grabbed Ramsay and smashed him against the boards. Jon, Robb and Theon were there as well. Sansa was running down the stands, trying to get close. She arrived just to hear Sandor snarl at Ramsay.

"What the fuck was that Bolton?" Sandor bellowed at him, shaking Ramsay as if he were a toy.

"Put him down, Clegane," came Ned's voice, looking up from where Rickon was starting to move. Ned and Sandor locked eyes, and Sandor finally dropped Ramsay and went to Ric.

"You ok, rookie?"

Ric gave him a stunned look as Arya, and the other trainer hurried over. He'd be off the ice and in concussion protocol for the next few hours.

"Bolton go get out of your gear," Ned ordered, voice deadly and low.

"It was just a hard hit. Not my problem that he’s a wimp that can't handle the contact," Ramsay sneered.

It was Robb that threw the first punch, with Jon and Theon piling on. Tormund and Bronn finally got them all separated, not because they liked Bolton, but because they saw that the Coach was ready to lose it. The rest of the team looked like they were prepared to take Ramsay apart, limb by limb.

"Practice is over. Bolton, my office after you're dressed. Robb, Theon, Jon, I'll deal with you three later."

None of them looked too concerned about Ned's punishment, each more than willing to take whatever he dealt out. It had been worth it to punch Ramsay. Sansa met her Dad, Cassel and Sandor at the bench after everyone else had cleared out.

Her father's jaw was tight, and Sansa couldn't remember a time she'd ever seen him so pissed.

"That's a major in a game and a suspension from the league," Cassel said, disgust in his voice.

"I know."

Ned did know. He'd played the game since he was four, and at forty-seven, he'd been on the ice for over four decades. Bolton was a disease, the type of player that could ruin the whole team.

"Who do we have in our system?"

Guys that had been 'cut' weren't just sent off to never play hockey again. Most had a place on the team's farm system, a level down where they could work on their skills. Some guys there never made it to the big league, but many were given a shot.

Cassel sighed. "No one that's going to score twenty plus goals for us. But there is one kid. Grenn. About twenty-three. He's been grinding it out for a few years. He's bigger this year; faster."

Sandor recalled him from tryouts, as Sansa pulled up his stats on the iPad. She wordlessly handed it to her Dad. She knew it wasn't just calling up the guy with the next best numbers. Ramsay was a winger and a left-handed shot – he'd be hard to replace. Ned looked at the numbers and nodded.

"Make it happen. Get me our lawyer, Cassel and meet me in my office. We'll put the word out that Ramsay's up for a trade. Maybe we can get something for him. For now, though, he's suspended from the team."

Coach Cassel nodded and then he and Ned walked down the hallway to the dressing room to find Ric and find out what his status was, leaving Sandor and Sansa alone.

"Hey," Sandor said. "You ok?”

Sansa sniffed and wiped a hand across her eyes. She had been so worried that Ric was seriously injured.

"There is something wrong with him, Sandor. Very wrong."

Sandor nodded. He was a sweaty mess, probably fucking stank and was in all his gear. And he so badly wanted to pull Sansa into his arms to comfort her.

"I agree. But Ned's doing something about it, and hopefully, the rookie will bounce back. He's kind of like Gumby."

Sansa gave a watery laugh. "He is." She sighed and then looked at him. Gods, he was delicious, leaning against the boards, gear on, stick in one hand.

"You look hot," she blurted out and then blushed. Sandor grinned.

"Yeah? You like this?"

Sansa bit her lip and nodded. "You're invited to Stark family dinner this Sunday. You and Sweetie."

Sandor straightened, and Sansa watched as the easy grin left his face, and he looked almost terrified.

"You sure you want me there?"

Sansa rolled her eyes. "Please, you're practically a Stark already. My Mom invited you, so there is no getting out of it. 4 pm not that we eat that early. But that’s when your grilling will begin."

He gave her a nod, but the fear hadn't left his face.

"Come on, let's go check on Ric," Sansa said, even if Sandor looked like facing her family over dinner was akin to torture. She knew he’d be fine and if not, well, she’d be there, by his side. Her and Sweetie; he’d have his girls with him.

They found Ric in the quiet room, an ice pack on his neck and a scowl on his face.

"One week," their head trainer was saying to Ned, who didn't look any happier about the situation than Rickon himself.

Sansa brushed his curls back from his forehead and kissed him softly.

"Scared me Ricrock," she whispered to him, and because he heard the fear in her voice, he allowed the soft touch.

"Recovery first, and then you'll be ready for opening night," Sandor told him, finally getting a glimmer of hope out of Sansa's brother.

"Yeah, ok. I'll take it easy." Ric nodded at Sandor.

"Crap, I'm going to be late," Sansa said, looking at her watch. When Sandor gave her a look, she told him she was having lunch with the girls.

He tugged her closer, impossibly tall on his skates. "What are you doing tonight?" he asked.

She grinned. "Hanging out with my boyfriend?"

He nodded and then smiled. "Would you mind just coming to my place? I hate leaving the dog for too long."

Sansa melted a bit and agreed. "I'll be by later."

Then she had to go, or else she'd be really late, and her friends would never let her live it down.

As it was, she was late, and they grilled her when she slid into the booth at the restaurant they had chosen.

"We need details!" Wyn cried, pouring Sansa a glass of white wine from the bottle on the table. Sansa debated if she should and then figured she could always take an uber to Sandor's house later.

Besides, it was already 1 pm, so she was past morning.

Sansa grinned and then waved at her face showing how happy he was. "He's so amazing."

Dacey snorted. "A man like that and you say he's amazing? He's a beast, San. He has to be hung like a horse and he has the muscles to back it up."

Sansa blushed, and Dacey cackled. "Gods, have you even seen his dick yet?"

"No, we're taking it slow."

"It's been a week."

"Not everyone's a ho-bag like you, Dace," Jeyne said, her smile making it so that Dacey knew she meant no ill will from it. Dacey grinned.

"Fair enough. Still, I'm surprised you've been able to hold out." Dacey furrowed her brow. "Why have you held out?"

Sansa took a sip of wine, playing with her cup. "He's had a shitty life, guys. Like, really shitty. And I just got done with Harry. At first, I didn't want to hurt him or me. I wasn't sure if it was just a rebound or … crap, I don't know."

Jeyne stroked Sansa's hand. "And now?"

Sansa almost burst into tears. "He gave me a tour of his house, and I could practically see our kids at this huge island he has in his kitchen. And the Christmas tree I want for his great room. And you should see his closet! It's huge."

All three women chuckled softly at Sansa, shaking their heads. They'd been waiting for her to fall head over heels for a guy. Who knew it'd be the badass that was Sandor Clegane?

They spent the next hour chatting about Sansa and Sandor, the team, her Mom's treatments, Jeyne's shelter and Wyn's latest project, which involved rehabbing the image of senator caught cheating on his wife. Dacey didn't say much, just added a snarky remark here and there, until finally, a little tipsy on her fourth glass of wine Sansa pinned her with a look.

"Are you going to give my brother a chance?"

Dacey's mouth dropped open. "What?" she sputtered.

"Robb. He likes you. Are you going to give him a chance?"

"San, we all know that man can't say no to the puck bunnies that literally line the halls waiting for him."

"Sandor told him to man up and quit acting like an idiot," Sansa told Dacey. Jeyne and Wyn's eyes were going back and forth between the two of them. "I know he's been a man-whore, but he hasn't taken anyone home in like…" Sansa scrunched up her nose, thinking, "Like a week, Dace."

Dacey rolled her eyes. "Wowwee a whole week, San. Maybe I should send him an engraved invitation to come and date me now that Prince Robb has decided he doesn't want to fuck everything in a skirt."

Sansa's eyes narrowed. "Ok, yeah, he's kind of been free with his … attentions. But he's not a bad guy Dace. He's an awesome big brother, and he's great with my Mom. He does all sorts of charity work, and he's even got a little buddy this year."

Dacey had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, fine. There's that. But Sansa, how can I take him seriously? The guy hasn’t exactly lived a celibate life."

Neither had Dacey but, she wasn’t quite as free with her attention as Robb was. 

Sansa cocked her head, thinking. "Well, make him prove it to you."

"How?"

"Withhold sex. Date him."

Dacey almost spat her wine out. "Did you say withhold sex? Have we met?"

Sansa shrugged. "Well, if you really want to know if there is something there, something more than the insane chemistry you two seem to have, then set your limits and hold him to it."

"And you think he'd go for that?" Dacey's voice was small and uncertain, two things she was decidedly not.

"Sandor says he likes you. And it drove him mad to see you flirting the other night. AND he didn't take anyone home that night or any other night. Jon was on his ass today, saying he's 'changed.'"

Dacey gave a small nod.

“Just think about it.”

Seeing that Dace needed time to process that, Jeyne asked Sansa about Sweetie as they ordered more wine and dessert.

Men, clothing, make-up and careers, their catch-up lunch was therapeutic and epic. Three hours later, Sansa was happily drunk as she pulled out her phone and called Sandor.

"Hello?" came his gruff voice.

"Gods, you're so sexy," Sansa purred into the phone, ruining it as she hiccupped.

"Did someone start day drinking?" Sandor asked, sounding amused.

"I'm drunk. And I can't drive. And now I'm the needy girlfriend who needs a ride. Can you come to get me."

Sandor chuckled. "Hang tight, and I'll be there as soon as I can. Text me the address."

"Thanks, baby."

"And Sansa, drink a coffee."

"Ohhhhhhh, coffee. That's a good idea. I love coffee — almost as much as I love your tattoos. I want to lick them, Sandor. All of them. Just lick them right off your body."

Sansa heard a rustle and then a grunt. And then Sandor swore. She giggled.

"Fucking hells, you're lethal little bird. Coffee."

He hung up, and Sansa smiled, texting him where she was and then looked up to see her friends smiling at her.

"You two are seriously cute together."

"Utterly adorable."

"Oh my god, they need a name," Jeyne exclaimed.

"A name?" Sansa asked as she gulped down hot coffee, followed by a glass of water.

"Yeah. Like Brangelina. Or…"

"Harry and I had a horrible name," Sansa pouted, interrupting. "It was Harsan. Or Sanrry. Or Sarry." Her lower lip poked out.

"Sansan," Dacey said smugly. "From now on, you two are SanSan."

"Oh my god, that's perfect! I love it!" Sansa cried and threw her arms around Dacey, kissing her loudly.

Dacey rolled her eyes but hugged Sansa back. They were all giggling when a shadow fell across their table, and they looked up to see Sandor there.

"See, he's so handsome," Sansa cried gleefully, scrambling to get out of the booth. "Hi, baby. Guess what we are? We're SANSAN!"

Sandor looked a bit stunned as he caught Sansa, who was almost crawling up him, kissing his neck and muttering about licking him. She looked back at her friends. "Thanks for an awesome lunch, ladies. Sansan out!"

Thankfully, the restaurant was mostly empty or else Sansa's plan on keeping a lid on her new relationship would have been over.

And then thinking she was the most hilarious thing in the world, she giggled as Sandor grabbed her hand and walked her through the elegant restaurant.

"Mmmm, you always smell so good. I spent all last Friday night trying to smell you and hoping you didn't notice. And now? A week later? It doesn't matter if you do." She took a big sniff of him.

Then Sansa was smiling up at him, and Sandor was gazing down at her, clear adoration in his grey eyes.

"Come on, little one, let's get you home."

"Ohhh, little one. I like that. And home. I like that too. You mean your home right? I love it there. It's so awesome. I have a confession," she said, eyes twinkling as Sandor gunned the engine.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She nodded and bit her lip. "I didn't want to leave the other night."

Sandor grunted something unintelligible, that sounded like giving her fucking time, and then Sansa happily snuggled down into the soft leather seat, happy now that she was with Sandor.

_Sansan_, she thought happily, loving their name, before her eyes closed and she was lulled to sleep by wine, the engine and the absolute certainty that she was safe with this man. Every part of her. Heart, head and soul.

* * *

_ Sandor_

Sandor wondered if there was anything in his life that would have prepared him for Sansa Stark. As he drove her home, back to his house, which she loved, which he loved, he figured nothing could prepare a man for the moment he met ‘_the one’_. And especially not when the one was someone like her.

Sure it was cheesy as fuck, and almost no one would believe him a romantic who believed in such things, but Sandor knew. Sansa Stark was it for him. She was _'the one,'_ as his billet mom used to go on about. Brenda read a romance novel a day, and she was always telling Sandor that when the time was right, the correct person would come into his life.

It seemed she was right, as Sandor glanced over at Sansa.

Who knew that she'd be such a cute drunk. And making name for them?

He wasn't a total nob. He knew that was a big deal to a social media personality like her. He wondered briefly what might happen when the remaining five days she had left on not commenting on her and Harry was up.

Would she want to post about them right away?

Would she want to post about them at all?

Sandor supposed these were conversations they would have to have and soon. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about being so exposed. But he also knew it was her life, and the idea of everyone knowing that Sansa Stark had chosen him? Well, he liked that.

When he pulled into the garage, she barely stirred. Sandor scooped her up as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Somehow he got them inside, where Sweetie met them. She whined and sniffed at Sansa.

"Not hurt, just had a bit too much fun today," Sandor told his dog. He put Sansa on the couch and covered her with a blanket, and then texted Ned that she was here.

**Ned**: Thanks, Sandor.

**Sandor**: How's Ric?

**Ned**: Sore head and neck. He's lucky it wasn't worse. Pissed he's out for a week but better safe than sorry

**Sandor**: No, shit.

**Ned**: See you tomorrow at practice. I'll tell Cat Sansa's spending the night with you.

Sandor shook his head in wonder, still unable to understand how this family had just accepted him. It blew his mind. He made himself dinner and kept a plate out for Sansa and then took the dog for a walk. When they came back, Sweetie went up and licked Sansa's face as she came awake, blinking at her surroundings.

"Oh gods, I did it again, didn't I?"

Sandor smirked as he passed her a bottle of water and joined her on the couch.

"If by did it again you mean got drunk with your girlfriends and called me for a ride, and then passed out, then yes."

She scowled at him.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Nope." He was grinning as she guzzled water.

"Your parents know you're here. They said they'd see you in the morning."

Sansa arched an elegant eyebrow, and Sandor held up his hands. "I have four spare rooms, Sansa. No pressure or expectations."

She nodded and said a soft thanks.

"Can I take a shower? I feel sort of gross. Oh, and I might need to borrow some clothes."

Sandor knew everything he owned would be huge on her, but the idea of her wearing something of his did something to him, so he nodded. "Come on, LB, let's get you feeling human again." He held out his hand, which she took and brought her to his bedroom.

He took her to his bedroom en suite, and she gasped at the shower. "This is amazing."

Sandor glanced around and nodded. It was definitely a step up from his previous apartment in Lannisport. He opened a drawer and pulled out an unopened toothbrush, and she thanked him.

"Wait here."

Sandor slipped out and found an old lion's t-shirt from way back that was slightly smaller than normal, and some sweats he'd shrunk and never thrown out. He also added a pair of boxer briefs and handed it all to her.

"Thanks," she said. She looked… uncertain, and Sandor fucking hated that.

He tugged her closer, carding his hands through her hair, so her head titled to him.

"Sansa, you were fucking adorable. I like all of you. Drunk you, and inappropriate loud you, sweet you and the you that loves my dog. The you that knows hockey better than most dudes, and the you that is here for her Mom and her treatments. I like all of you, ok."

She hitched a sigh and nodded, grasping at his t-shirt. "I just don't want to embarrass you."

Sandor snorted. "Babe, you're never going to embarrass me. And if you embarrass you, well, let me know, and I'll fucking sign up and be right there beside you."

Sansa launched herself at him, kissing him passionately. "I can't believe you're mine, Sandor Clegane."

He patted her ass, then forced his hands to let her go, kissing her nose. "Shower, then come find me and eat."

After Sandor closed the door to his bathroom, he wandered back downstairs. She was crazy if she thought there was anything she could do that would embarrass him. Drunk Sansa was hilarious and cute, and loud and had no filter. He adored her. She'd fucking moved back home to be with her Mom through cancer treatments, and she'd put those meatheads Bronn and Tormund in their place. She was a fucking goddess, and he'd gladly worship at her alter for as long as she let him.

He flicked on the Xbox to distract himself from Sansa showering in the exact place where he'd jerked off to her more than he'd like to admit, happy when Ric, Bronn and Umber were online. He was slowly getting the hang of this, and they started a new game just for him.

He was almost through the first period when Sansa appeared, wearing his clothes and his entire world shifted again.

_Fuck_, he thought, _seeing her like this - he was never going to let her go_. He would put a ring on her finger, marry her, and knock her up. They'd have seven kids, and he'd never be alone again because Sansa would be his family. Her and the Starks and her crazy ass friends and his teammates in the North and all the kids they’d have. This was everything he'd never known he'd wanted. She was it.

He said nothing as the guys were yelling at him through his headset, just turning it off. He didn't give a single fuck about the game. Only her. Always her.

He rose, wiped damp palms on his black lounge pants.

"I saved dinner for you," he finally said, and she nodded, reaching for his hand.

He took it, going instantly hard as he smelled his soap on her. She went on her tiptoes to kiss him. "Thanks for being so awesome."

"What do you remember?"

She blushed. "Ummm, did I announce to the entire restaurant that we were SanSan?"

Sandor grinned and tugged her closer, wrapping his massive arms around her slim frame as he cupped her face. "You did."

"Oh my god. I'm such a loser." Her blush was endearing.

Sandor's grin got bigger. "It's catchy." He winked at her. "SanSan." Sansa groaned as he led her to the table and put some food in front of her.

She eyed him as she took a bite of food. "You don't mind the nickname?"

He shook his head.

"The girls want a pub night tomorrow."

Sandor snorted.

"I'll be the DD, but do you think some of the guys would come?"

"Some of the guys? Or Robb?" He might be a dog, but he wasn't an idiot. He knew that Sansa's brother was pining for the hot bartender.

Sansa smirked and drank more water, then leaned in to gossip about Robb and Dacey.

Sandor sent a text to the team about pub night tomorrow at the _Sin Bin_, and Sansa confirmed with her friends and sister. Then they let Sweetie out for another bathroom break before cuddling up on the couch for a movie. Sandor finally picked, and it was filled with action and explosions and minimal plot. By the time Sandor let the dog out for her before bed break, he could tell Sansa was a pile of nerves as they made their way upstairs.

He took her hand. "You can have your own room, Sansa."

She shook her head. "I want to share your bed. But I'm not quite ready for _that_." Her body might be, but her mind and heart weren’t, and Sandor knew this.

"Sex?"

She nodded blushing.

"Sansa, I'm never going to push you into anything you're not ready for. So if you want to share my bed, you can make a pillow wall for all I care and sleep there."

She laughed and then kissed him. "No wall needed, but shorts stay on, ok?"

"I sleep naked. My house, my rules," Sandor deadpanned back and watched as she rolled her eyes.

"Seriously? You'd give up cuddling with me to sleep naked?"

Sandor cocked his head as if he were considering his options as she hit him on the chest. "Keep your boxers on, babe."

Then Sansa shimmied out of the oversized sweatpants and stood there in his boxers on her and his t-shirt and slipped into bed. She was on his side, and he couldn't care less.

He debated keeping his t-shirt on, but all she said was boxers, so before he turned the light off, he made a show of taking off the shirt. She was watching him so he saw the desire flare in her eyes. He knew his body was a work of art, and this was the woman that said she wanted to lick every tattoo. He knew that wasn't happening tonight, but he could give as good as he got with a little show for her. When his pants hit the floor, he saw her breath hitch.

Sandor kept his face neutral as he ran a hand down his chest, over his well-defined pecs, that while hairy, were covered in a smattering of ink and had turned more than one head. Sansa's eyes never left his hand as he scratched at his eight-pack, smirking internally at how she was all but panting for him.

She wanted him at least as much as he wanted her. _Thank fucking gods._

_Soon, little bird_, he thought. He turned the light to dim, so he could still see her, and slipped into bed, loving it when he opened his arms, and she willingly came. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as he held her close.

"This ok?"

She sighed, resting a hand on his chest, fingers playing with his chest hair. "This is perfect," she murmured, sucking on his neck.

"Sansa, babe, I can only take so much." His cock was rock hard and begging him to see just how far he could take things.

Sandor rubbed his hands down her back, reaching lower and tugging the t-shirt up, up the smooth skin of her back, over her stomach. "Tell me to stop, Sansa or I'm going to take this off you and feast on those sweet little breasts of yours," he growled into her ear.

Sansa reached a hand down and traced every rock hard line of his body.

"Sansa?"

"Take my shirt off, Sandor," she told him, breathless.

He wasted no time, whipping it over her head until she was bare except for his boxers on her slim hips. He roared at the sight of her little apple breasts, hardly big enough to fit in his hands, but perfect all the same tipped with pale pink nipples that looked like candies. They were as hard as he was, and he pressed a kiss to her neck as she arched into his hands, which were rolling the pebbled tips between his fingers.

She was bucking closer to him, wrapping a long leg around him, trying to ease the ache, he knew. With her this close to him, he could fucking smell her arousal, and he wanted her more than he'd wanted anything in his entire life.

Kissing his way down her chest, he took a hard tip in his mouth, loving how her hands came up to press his head closer to her, holding him there as she reared up, trying to get closer.

"Sandor, please," she whined, and he grinned as he drew the nipple out, distending it and making her gasp.

"What do you want, baby?"

"Make me come," she begged him, and he was helpless to say no.

Tonight was for her. A taste of what he could give her, how good they could be together. Both of them would be keeping their boxers on. Sandor ran a hand down her slim stomach, until he slipped beneath the band of his own underwear, wondering if there was anything sexier than a woman you wanted wearing your clothes. Her legs fell apart, and Sandor wondered what colour the curls down there were. But tonight was not the night to find that out. He slipped a finger down her seam, finding her soaking wet and needy, and dipped on thick finger inside, watching her face as she rode him.

"Fuck Sansa, you're the sexiest thing I've ever seen," he murmured into her ear, sucking on her neck while he got a second finger into her tight channel.

"Ride my fingers, baby," he commanded her, never taking his eyes from her as she did what he asked. When he felt her flutter around him, he rubbed his thumb over her clit, watching as she bucked and arched up and then screamed his name.

"Sandor, holy shit… oh my god, please," she cried as he stroked her to her peak. Her blue eyes blazed into his grey ones and he loved how she never took them off her. She knew exactly who'd made her just come apart in minutes.

When her breathing slowed, she cupped his face, scarred side, and pressed a feather-light kiss to his lips. "That was amazing."

He smirked. "It was. Now, time for sleep."

She furrowed her brow. "But you're still…"

"Hard as a rock babe. But you're not ready for sex yet."

She blushed, but he could see the truth in her eyes.

"Sansa, what just happened was one of the best experiences of my life. My cock will be fine. He's not going to fall off if he doesn't come tonight. So turn around and let me be the big spoon, ok?"

Sansa gave him a long, assessing look. Then she kissed him again and turned in his embrace, so he could cradle her close, tucking her ass up against his raging hard-on.

She giggled, feeling it pressing against her. "Now, I can tell Dacey that you are big everywhere."

Sandor growled in her ear. "Go to sleep, little bird."

She was quiet for a time.

"Thank you. For everything tonight."

"Your welcome."

Another couple of minutes of silence.

"You're going to make it so that I never want to leave your bed."

"Failing to see the problem, Sansa. Go to sleep."

She huffed out a breath.

"Aren't you worried I'm using you?"

Sandor chuckled. "No."

Sansa twisted so she could look at him.

"You're too good to be true, Sandor."

"I'm not. I'm mean. I curse too much. And I'm moody as fuck."

She huffed again, and he grinned.

"No man doesn't want the woman to deal with… that."

She waved her hand down towards his dick. His very big, very hard, dick.

"Sansa, listen to me. You've been with one man in your life. I'm not going to rush this. What's the issue?"

She bit her lip, and Sandor knew what she was about to say, and he wasn't going to like. So he braced himself not to overreact. He needed to learn to keep himself under control.

"Harry made it sound like he'd be in pain if we didn't… you know. Have sex. If he didn’t come." She was blushing but almost in embarrassment.

Sandor swore he saw red. Her ex sounded like a massive fucking asshole. What type of guy made his girlfriend have to deal with his hard-on under threat that he'd be in pain?

"Baby, listen. A hard dick might ache a bit, but I've had worse hits from Rickon."

"Really?"

Sandor nodded. "Sansa's it's not one for one. I don't give you pleasure and expect something in return. Fuck, I could make you come every day for the next month and you never have you touch my dick if you weren't ready. Sex and pleasure it’s not about what you get, it’s about what you give.”

Sansa sniffed. "Are you sure?"

Sandor nodded again. "One hundred percent sure."

He could see her working things over in her mind. "I don't want to wait a month. But you're right when you said I'm not ready for that tonight."

"I know."

She reached out and dragged his face down to hers, kissing him softly. "Thank you for being the best boyfriend, Sandor. Now I'm ready to be the little spoon."

He grinned as she twisted back, pressing her sweet little peach of an ass into his hard dick, giggling when he groaned and then tucking his arms around her.

"Night Sandor."

"Night little bird."

Silence.

"This is better than texting."

"Go to sleep Sansa."

Silence.

Sweetie whined.

"Oh for fuck sakes," Sandor growled then gave a low whistle, feeling the whole bed shake when she jumped up, turned twice and then settled at the end of the bed.

"You ladies comfortable? Anyone need anything else, or do you think we can finally sleep?"

Sansa giggled again and then patted his arm.

"This is good," she murmured sleepily.

Sandor waited until he heard her soft snore. Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"No little bird, this is better than good. This is perfect."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pub Night

* * *

  
Sansa

Sansa looked at herself critically as she got ready for date night, thinking about the past twenty-four hours as she checked her watch. Sandor would be here at any moment, and she wanted to look perfect.

She'd known that Sandor was sexy, handsome and drool-worthy. But who knew the man was like some book boyfriend from the romance novels that she devoured on her kindle?

Not only did the man not seem to care that she was tipsy and announced to everyone their new cutesy nickname, but he'd also brought her home, taken care of her, cooked for her and then gave her the best orgasm of her life. All while insisting he didn't mind waiting for sex, and cuddling her against his massive body all night, so she had the best sleep ever. He'd been the big spoon, and she loved it.

She'd woken up plastered against him, not that it bothered him. He had this gentle look on his face that she knew was how he looked at Sweetie.

"Hi," he rumbled out, his chest moving when he spoke. Sansa ran her hands up and down it, loving the contrast to Harry. Then she giggled.

Sandor was hairy, not Harry.

"What?" he demanded, and she told him her little pun, watching as he rolled his eyes at her. It was so freeing just to be herself with Sandor. He didn't mind that she was quirky and funny and said inappropriate things when she'd had a few glasses of wine.

"Not some model, little bird, if that's what you want."

Realizing he was slightly unsure that she found him attractive, Sansa boldly pushed him down, scrambling to climb on top of him. Then she giggled again, and when he scowled, she kissed him, straddling his huge body and leaning down over the top of him.

"Stop frowning. I was just remembering when Robb took me home from the pub. I told him I wanted to climb you like a monkey climbs a tree. And I just did."

His face relaxed, and Sandor put his enormous arms behind his head, watching her. All his ink was on display this way, and Sansa licked her lips

Sandor grinned.

"Can I touch them?"

"Yeah," he said nodding.

The first tattoo she found was three black dogs on the underside of his bicep. He flexed a bit, and the dogs almost looked like they were running. _It should be illegal for him to move his muscles that way. Muscles that had muscles. YUM!_

Back to the tats. Sansa knew many families in Westeros had old family crests and wondered if this was his. The Starks was a direwolf and the Tully’s a silver fish.

"It's the Clegane sigil," he told her as her fingers touched the black ink and each dog.

Sansa nodded, knowing his family was a sensitive topic. Then she leaned down and kissed them, and she heard a rumble of pleasure from him.

"This one?" she had moved on to the next. It was a name written in cursive and spanned the length of his left forearm. _Elizabeth_.

"My Mom." His voice was rough, like sandpaper.

Sansa kissed it as well. Another was a skull, tastefully done if she didn't say so herself and then, of course, the number 8 done in an intricate design that almost looked Celtic. There was a Lannister Lion and some others that seemed to be nothing more than elegant designs that he'd wanted on his body.

It was art, she realized. A canvas of his life. She wondered if she’d make the cut one day, to be inked somewhere on Sandor.

Sansa's hand ran over the hard planes of his chest when she came to three dates at the top.

She arched an eyebrow.

"My Mom's death, my draft day and the day I moved in with the Marbrand's."

Sansa's heart swelled. This man was just a big softie when you got through the outer shell.

"Any ideas what your next one might be?"

"Some," he said cryptically, giving her a look that made it more than clear it would have something to do with her. Sansa loved that though. Since she was done with exploring for now, she laid down on top of him, tucking herself up into the crook of his arm, loving how his strong arms came down to hold her close.

"I loved last night, Sandor. Thank you for taking care of me."

"I'll always take care of you, little bird." She heard the truth in his words and her heart beat faster. _This man!_

Sansa tilted her head for a kiss, their first this morning. "You ready for pub night tonight? The whole team and my girlfriends?"

Sandor frowned. "We're still going together, right?"

Sansa nodded. "Yup. You can pick me up at 8."

Sandor squeezed her. "I can do that. Bike?"

Sansa's face split into a huge grin. "Ohhhh, I'd love that."

Sandor just shook his head at her as if he couldn't believe she liked it so much.

And as much as Sansa wanted to lay in bed all day, she knew that Sandor had practice, team meetings another scrimmage today and she wanted to get a run in and post a few videos today. She was also set to go over some marketing stuff with Wyn for the MiSa makeup line, and she needed a few groceries for her house.

Reluctantly she had left Sandor's bed, but had kept his clothing saying she needed to wash her dress. It was a weak excuse, and they both knew it- she just wanted to keep his stuff.

She loved that when he drove her home, he made out with her in his ridiculously expensive car until she was panting, and she had to push him back.

"You're so good for me," she murmured against his lips, nipping him once. "Now go eat a dozen eggs and kick ass at practice. I'll see you tonight."

"As Sansan," Sandor smirked, and she threw him a withering gaze.

"It's a great name," she pouted prettily, and Sandor laughed.

"Later, little bird."

Sansa floated through the rest of her day. She almost bounced on her run, having so much energy and good flow. Then she helped her Mom and Mordane plan the dinner menu for Sunday night. Her Mom had decided on a full roast beef dinner because it was Sandor and Sansa knew he'd love it.

Her call with Yohn and Wyn was terrific, and she was seriously considering offering her friend a contract to have her officially come on board with MiSa and help with their marketing. Sansa knew that it wasn't precisely what Wyn did, but she was terrific at the advertising portion of things.

They spent a couple of hours gossiping about Robb and Dacey, wondering if something would happen between them tonight.

"Dacey likes him, San. But I think she is apprehensive that he's only interested in her because she keeps saying no. Like if she were to give in, he'd dump her."

Sansa sighed and put down the latest top she was trying on. She was going for a new look tonight, something a bit edgier than average to compliment Sandor.

"I get it. He hasn't exactly built himself a reputation as a long term, stable boyfriend type guy. But I think he's ready for that to change Wyn."

"I hope so. Because if he hurts her, I don't care that he's your brother, I'll kick his ass."

"Don't worry, if he hurts her, I'll help."

That settled, Wyn flopped back on Sansa's bed as she passed her another top, this one silver and sparkly.

"So, what happened between you and Sandor last night?"

Sansa blushed and pulled the top on, eyeing herself critically in her full-length mirror. She shot Wyn and look and told her everything, up to and including the fantastic orgasm, the non-quid pro quo for sex and the tattoo exploration this morning.

"Jesus, is he for real?" Wyn said, fanning herself.

"I know. He's like a romance book boyfriend."

"And his face? The scarring doesn't bother you?"

Sansa stilled and turned to face her friend. Wyn wasn't being rude or mean, just asking an honest question.

But still, Sansa wondered if this was what it was always like for him. Sansa had just shared how she'd had the best night ever with him, how he was sexy and sweet, and so caring, and it all came down to his face.

"No, it doesn't." Sansa's voice was tight with emotion.

"Oh shit, San. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Not like you’re superficial and only care about what someone looks like. Or that I am. I was just meaning, you know… Your whole life is your blog and your social media accounts and YouTube. I mean, do you think people would be cruel if you posted a picture of you two together? And is Sandor ok with that?"

Sansa stilled and thought about what Wyn was saying. It might have been poorly done, but she had a point.

In a couple of days, Sansa would be free to post all the #Sansan selfies she wanted, but would Sandor be ok with that? Her life was a pretty open book, and she shared a lot with her followers. It made her authentic and relatable, and while Sandor was fast becoming very important to her, Sansa loved her career. She worked her ass off for her success. If he didn’t want any part of that, could they still work?

"He's a pro hockey player. He's been in the media."

Wyn nodded. "Sure, but not on your level. San, you have millions of followers and more each day. Your entire life is documented. From what you've said, he doesn't even have Facebook."

Sansa sat on her bed, the reality of her life washing over her.

"Breath, San. I don't think it's that big of a deal, just something you need to talk about with him. And soon."

Sansa nodded, hoping Wyn was right and that it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Sandor knew what she did. He had to know that she captured much of her day to day life on IG. It wasn't like it was a secret.

Still, she could understand if he might not want his face everywhere. Sansa thought he was handsome and sexy, and she ached for him. But Wyn's comment made her stop and think that others might not be so forgiving. Or kind. The last thing she wanted was to expose him to online trolls. She dealt with them because she'd chosen this life; he hadn't.

After Wyn left, Sansa curled up on her couch and thought about how their lives might mesh. They already seemed to fit together so seamlessly, but what about this whole other animal, called social media? Would Sandor be willing to dip his toe in?

A ping on her phone and Sansa's brow scrunched up.

**Dany**: You're free, my friend. My shoot is done, and as long as I live, I will never use Harry again.

**Sansa**: That bad?

**Dany**: Honestly, I love you, but how the hell you put up with that pompous douche sac for that long is beyond me, San. Anyways, you're a free bird.

**Sansa**: Thanks. I do appreciate it.

**Dany**: Just tell me when you date a new guy, he'll be nothing like Harry.

Sansa smirked, thinking of Dany's husband. He was a hulking man, almost as big as Sandor, with just as many tats and some serious facial hair. Sansa grabbed a promo pic of Sandor in his old Lions jersey and sent it to Dany

**Dany**: Sweet baby Jesus, please tell me that is what I think it is?

**Sansa**: LOL. What do you think it is?

**Dany**: The anti-Harry. Gods, he's a full snack, isn't he! YUM!

**Sansa**: Down, girl. You've got your own snack.

**Dany**: That I do, but I can still appreciate a fine ass man when I see it

**Sansa**: Yes, we're together, and yes, he's amazing

**Dany**: I'm super happy for you. I miss you, but it looks like life in the North is treating you well, Sansa.

**Sansa**: I miss you as well. Maybe when the Wolves play the Capitals, I'll come down with the team.

**Dany**: I'd love that. And remember – you're free!!!!! Kisses!!!

Sansa set her phone down. She and Harry were officially done. She had no more obligation to him or their relationship.

It was an incredible feeling, and Sansa picked up her phone and called her grandma Minisa. The moment that Sansa had posted her first YouTube video, Min had brought an apple iPad and laptop and made all sorts of social media accounts to follow Sansa. She was Sansa's very first subscriber on her YouTube channel, and she was always 'online,' hence how Sansa knew her grandma would answer the phone.

They spoke for an hour, relaxed and comfortable with one another. Sansa shared the mess with Harry and Min had snorted and said goodbye to bad rubbish, making Sansa laugh.

They spoke of Cat and her treatments.

"You're such a good daughter to come home. She loves you so much, Sansa."

That made Sansa cry.

Then Sansa told her grandma all about Sandor, leaving nothing out. His childhood, the hockey, the dog. And what she felt for him and how she was worried her career might jeopardize their relationship.

Minisa sighed. "What is it with my girls that love these rough men?" the Tully matriarch muttered, but Sansa heard the love in her voice.

"Your young man sounds like he's had a complicated life, Sansa. Are you sure you want to take that on?"

"Grandma, yes. I have no concerns about that. Well, I mean, I'm heartbroken over the abuse he suffered. But he's so kind and caring, and I know he likes me."

"Alright, don't get your panties in a bunch, Sansa. It's an honest question and one I asked your mother. Here she was, my beautiful daughter, ready to take Westeros by storm. And she went and fell for a man from the North that waves a piece of wood around."

Sansa giggled. It was a long-running 'feud' in her family about how Minisa felt about hockey. And Ned. Cat joked that her mother still hadn't forgiven her for marrying outside her 'social class.'

Sansa could only imagine when Mini met Sandor.

"Sandor is much rougher than Dad, Grandma. He has tattoos and rides a Harley."

Minisa snorted, elegantly, of course. "So, he's a bad boy."

"He's taken Ric under his wing on the ice, and he can cook."

Minisa said nothing.

"And he didn't pressure me for sex – even after he gave me an orgasm."

Minisa and Sansa were close - very, very close. Mini knew that Sansa had been a virgin up until Harry and Sansa had often confided everything to her grandmother.

"Well, I suppose he will do. We will be coming up North to spend time with your Mother and you in a few weeks, Sansa. I expect to meet your fellow then."

Sansa was in the best mood when she hung up. Her grandma might act snooty, but in the end, she just wanted her to be happy.

After that, rejuvenated and excited about tonight, Sansa threw herself into getting ready for date night. The debut of Sansan. She would speak with Sandor and respect his boundaries. Her followers didn't need to know everything, and if he wasn't comfortable being on her social media pages, then she wouldn't push it. He was more important than her followers and she’d figure it out.

Sansa decided on tight cropped black pants, a glittery tank top that was almost gold and then shimmered and looked dark purple and a cute little leather jacket. She paired it with black stiletto sandals since she knew she would never match Sandor's height, made her hair loose and wavy and gave herself a smoky eye and bold red lips.

She looked freaking hot and sexy and knew she'd knock Sandor's socks off. She didn't even worry about packing a bag since she figured if she was invited to spend the night in his bed again, clothing was optional. And they could always stop by here on the way to his house.

Sansa heard the Harley before the knock on her door and opened it to see Sandor standing there, clutching some flowers that hadn't seemed to survive the bike ride. He looked positively edible in blue jeans, a black t-shirt, leather jacket and biker boots.

_Down girl_, she repeated as she took the flowers.

"Thanks."

"They, uh, got kind of squished."

"That's ok."

She waved him inside, happy when she caught him staring at her ass. Oh, did she mention she was wearing the tiniest little thong and matching bra? No?

It was La Perla, red and worth every single dollar she'd paid for it. Just thinking of Sandor seeing it later had her clenching in need.

Sandor stood in her entrance while Sansa stuck the flowers in water. When she got back to him, she rose up and kissed him, then wiped away the lipstick.

"Hi, baby."

"Hi, little bird. You look amazing."

"So do you, big guy."

He grunted and then allowed her to tug him over to the couch. He sat and gave her a wary look.

"So, I need to talk with you." She saw his eyes cloud with worry, and she squeezed his hand. "No, Sandor, not like that. Nothing like that."

She sighed and then spoke. "You know what I do for a living, my online presence."

He nodded, still looking both a bit scared and worried as if she was going to end things.

"Stay with me, Sandor. I'm not ending things with us. In fact, the opposite. My friend Dany texted me today to say that her campaign with Harry is done and that I'm free to post whatever I'd like again."

"Alright." He looked uncertain and slightly confused.

Sansa took out her phone and opened her IG account, noting that she was creeping closer to six million followers.

"Here. This is some of what I do. I post these selfies and promote my make-up or an artist I like. Sometimes a new fashion label. My Instagram account is my day to day life, and for a long time, there was a lot of Harry and me on it."

Sandor looked at her phone like it was a snake.

"Take it please and look."

He did, his big hands holding her shiny silver phone and scrolling through her recent posts.

"I bring a lot of my day to day life into my IG account and all of that links back to my YouTube one."

Sansa heaved out a sigh. He hadn’t said a word, which wasn’t a great sign for what she was going to ask him.

"So I need to know your boundaries. Do you want to be included in this world? Can I say I have a boyfriend and that my boyfriend is you? Can I take a picture of us and upload it, or will that make you uncomfortable?"

Sandor was looking between her and the phone. Then back on the phone. He was looking angry, and she glanced down and saw he'd stopped on a picture of her and Harry.

"A lot of that was fake. And I know how that makes me look. Since I've come North, my posts have been more authentic. I took a make-up free selfie after a run the other day."

Sandor grunted and then finally spoke.

"What if I look … bad?"

Sansa knew what he meant. What if she showcased his scarred side? What if people reacted to that? What if she exposed him to a whole world of hate?

She scurried to crawl onto his lap, loving when his arms wrapped themselves around her.

"What if I promise never to post a picture that includes you without your approval?"

Sansa saw him nod.

"Ok, yeah. I'd be ok with that." He paused. "I trust you little bird, and I like the idea that all those other fuckers will know you're taken."

Sansa grinned and pressed a soft kiss to his unscarred cheek. “I am so very, very taken.” Sansa saw his eyes light up with that statement.

Then she plucked her phone from him and held it out, keeping her lips on him and clicked taking their first picture together.

She hummed a bit, adjusting the filter and making it so that it was darker and a bit moody. When she was pleased, she added the hashtags

_#firstSansan_

_#hockeyplayergirlfriend_

_#thehoundsnewwoman_

_#wintertownwolfwag_

Then she added the following caption for her followers:

_I just wanted to take a quick moment to comment on the end of Harry and me, finally. We have been over for a while now, and are just going public with our split._

_Harry and I were together for just over three years, and we had lots of fun and found ourselves in our time together. Like most college romances, though, life in the real world showed us how incompatible we were together, and we realized it was time to go our separate ways. I'll always wish him the best in life, love and his career!_

_As many of you are aware, I moved back home to Wintertown just over three weeks ago to be closer to my family. I am so happy to be able to introduce everyone to my boyfriend, Wintertown Wolves all-star defenseman Sandor Clegane._

_This is new, and we're excited and thrilled to have found each other. _

_Please be kind to us as we keep you posted on our adventures together! _

_Go Wolves!!!_

_Light and love_

_Sansa (now #sansan)_

Sansa finished and handed the phone back to Sandor, who looked almost startled at the picture of the two of them.

"I don't look like that," he mumbled. Sansa kissed him again.

"Yeah, you do." He was staring at them and finally raised his eyes.

"It's better if we control the message, Sandor. It's only a matter of time before someone 'outs' us and then it would be a feeding frenzy. If we give them a little, they'll give us some space. I promise. I do know what I'm doing, and I won't do anything to compromise us, or you."

"Alright, I trust you, Sansa."

"You sure? Because once I hit this, almost six million people will know we're together."

Sandor swallowed hard. "Are you sure?"

Sansa nodded vigorously. "Oh yeah. I want everyone to know you're mine. I'm not doing this for more followers, or to expose us, Sandor. I want to share my life with you, and a big part of my life is online. It's who I am; my career. And it might seem silly or superficial to some, but I worked hard for it. I want you to be part of that. I mean, you and Sweetie and things that we are doing in our day to day lives."

Sandor reached out and drew her down to him, sealing their lips in a passionate kiss. "I know you're not doing this for ulterior motives, Sansa. I just don't want to embarrass you."

She gave an incredulous laugh. "Sandor, you're like my dream guy. Trust me when I say, I am not embarrassed."

"Even with my face?"

Her eyes blazed blue, passionate and energized. "Especially with your face. Your face is a huge part of you, and I love it."

Sansa blushed at the word love, but Sandor seemed to take it within the context in which it was delivered.

"If you're sure, LB, then so am I."

She was, and Sansa wiggled on his lap as she hit submit. "Now, watch the magic baby," she said, cuddled there on his lap, both of them looking at her phone. The likes came instantly, with loads of comments fast and furious. Sansa shot a quick text to Pod to tell him what she'd done, and he said he'd be all over it. For the most part, Pod 'answered' a lot of her followers, especially if it was a routine inquiry. He also monitored for trolls or anyone who was nasty and often shut them down immediately.

Most people were over the moon, excited about her and Sandor. Seeing the positive response, Sandor relaxed marginally, although he still told her he thought the entire thing was nuts.

She read out some of the better comments, and there were a lot of women that thought Sansa had traded up with it came to boyfriends.

Said boyfriend blushed when Sansa read some of the racier comments. Sandor was a sexy snack that more than one woman wanted to sample. Thank gods he was all hers.

"People think this about me?"

Sansa nodded, locking her door and linking hands with Sandor as they walked to his bike, trying to explain to him how hot he was.

Sansa would never have imagined a day when a Harley got her hot, but Sandor's did. She took her helmet and put it on and then climbed on the back, wrapping her arms around him and hugging herself to him.

The bike roared to life, and they were off, cruising through Wintertown towards the rink where Dacey's bar was. Sandor parked and then held his hand out for Sansa.

"Ready?"

Her grin was huge. "Oh, yeah, babe. We're official."

Her phone chimed and when she read the message her eyes widened. 

**Pod**: Holy shit, San. You're trending.

She opened her IG account and saw she'd added a million followers in less than an hour.

Sandor looked as shocked as Sansa.

"Holy crap," she said. She had no idea this would happen. There were tens of thousands of comments and so much love and excitement for them that Sansa felt warm all over.

Sandor pulled her close and carded his hands through her hair, and she wrapped her arms around him.

"You're mine, little bird."

"You're mine as well, big guy."

They kissed, long and slow, with enough heat to warm them both. Panting, they pulled back, knowing they needed to get inside.

"Let's go see if we can get your brother a date."

Sansa giggled and holding hands, they walked into the bar together.

* * *

_ Sandor  _

Sandor couldn't believe everything that had happened in the past hour or so. He'd agreed to let Sansa make them public, and now millions of people knew that the woman holding his hand was his.

Sansa Stark, YouTube sensation, make-up mogul and hottest woman in Westeros.

His woman.

His girlfriend.

His in every fucking way.

As they entered the bar, a huge cheer went up when they were spotted. Almost the whole team had turned out as well as Sansa's friends and her sister.

"Hound!!!!!" Tormund called, already a few beers in and loud as ever.

"Sansan!" Yelled Robb not to be outdone.

Then they were swamped. Their "selfie" had gone viral.

Sandor was jostled and patted on the back, kissed (that was the fucking wildling) and had his junk grabbed by Bronn.

No one ever said hockey players were a tame bunch, and these guys were high on Ramsay being done and their captain having landed the hottest woman in Westeros.

The Wolves had taken over half the bar, while the other was filled with locals and lots of guys from the university. Sandor could tell who those guys were by their pretty shirts and designer jeans. More than a few looked at Sansa, but his woman stuck had eyes for only him.

It made Sandor feel ten feet tall as she stuck like glue to him as he nursed a beer and Sansa drank diet cola. She had said she was not drinking tonight, not like Sandor cared and was clearly sticking to it.

Robb flopped down on the other side of Sandor a depressed look on his face. He was gazing at the bar where Dacey was popping beer bottle caps and slinging shots as fast as she could.

There was a group of guys at the bar, trying to get her attention and flirting with her. Sandor thought Dacey was doing an excellent job of being personable but professional.

"You talk with her?"

Robb nodded.

"Yeah."

"And?"

Robb snorted. "Told me that she’d date me but no sex."

Sandor snorted. “So what’s the fucking problem?”

Robb’s eyes bugged out. “Have you see her? That woman is my every wet dream. How could I possibly date her without sex?”

Sandor thought that Robb sounded like a whiny bitch.

"Easy. You don't have sex."

Sansa perked up, and turned into the conversation, pressing closer to Sandor and eyeing up her brother.

"But, she's hot."

"Yeah. So?”

"So how do I date her without, you know…"

Sandor rolled his eyes. "Robb, don't be one of those men that can't date a woman without sleeping with her on date number one."

Robb mumbled something.

"He doesn't date," Sansa said, eyes narrowing. "Robb, bottom line – Dacey won't trust that you’re serious if you don't make some type of commitment. You've banged enough chicks over the years, that she's gun shy about being just another notch on your hockey stick."

Robb scowled, watching as the dudes at the bar got bolder with her. She was handling herself, but he didn't fucking like it, that much was clear.

"Why doesn't she just believe me when I say I want to be with her?"

Sansa snorted. "Robb, I'm your sister, and I don't believe you. You need to prove it to her."

The Stark siblings held each other's gaze, Sandor resting his big and on Sansa's back. He liked how he was free to touch her. It was incredible what a difference a week made.

Sansa finally rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll go and speak with her, but you owe me Robb Stark."

Robb grinned as Sansa shimmied out of the booth, kissed Sandor and then went up to the bar. Sandor watched her go, loving that she was his.

"So, family dinner tomorrow night, huh," Robb said, smirking at Sandor.

"Really?" Sandor gave him a look as if to say, you’re trying to bust my ass about this when you can’t even land your own woman?

Robb shrugged. "It's wicked cool that you are Sansa's boyfriend. I can bring anyone home now."

Sandor scowled at Robb about to lay into him, just as Robb straightened, then narrowed his eyes.

"Fucking assholes," Robb said, surging to his feet, Sandor right behind him as he glanced towards the bar.

Sansa was at the bar, leaning to try to talk with Dacey when two of the guys there caged her in. Then one asshole who was as good as dead, put his hand on near her while the other leaned in to try and flirt with her.

Sandor saw fucking red. He stood and moved fast, getting there just in time to hear the one asshole ask Sansa to blow him.

"Wrong fucking woman, dickhead," Sandor snarled, reaching for Sansa who grinned at him.

"Oh, hey, baby. These guys were just saying that they didn't believe my boyfriend was a Wolves player."

"Holy fucking shit, dude, you're huge." The one guy's eyes had almost bugged out of his head as he got a look at Sandor. The other guys in their group turned to look at Sandor and Robb, so there were now six of them and Robb and Sandor. Sandor liked his fucking odds.

"Who the fuck are you?" another one asked, then he leered at Sansa.

"He's Sandor. I'm Sansa. We're SANSAN!" Sansa chirped happily, and Sandor just shook his head at how adorable she was.

"How the fuck did an ugly fuck like you get a woman like her?"

One of the morons was still touching Sansa's arm. Sandor was about to fucking losing it. Sansa frowned.

"Get your fucking hand off my girlfriend before I break it," Sandor growled and watched as two of them took a few steps back, holding up their hands and finally stopped touching her.

Sansa grabbed Sandor's hand, grinning. "I told them I wasn't interested, but they didn't listen." Then she stuck out her tongue. "And he's not ugly. He's super sexy. And he has tats!"

Sandor gave her a brief smirk. "Let me handle this, ok, little bird."

"Ok, baby," she said, eyes gazing at him in absolute adoration. If Sandor had any doubts that Sansa wanted him, she'd just obliterated them. Turning back to the dicks in question, Sandor snarled at them.

"You two assholes like touching women without their permission?" They shook their heads, eyes going wide.

"Fuck dude, we didn't know she was taken. She's new meat here."

It was the wrong thing to say.

Robb heard.

Sandor heard.

Dacey heard.

And Sansa heard.

"New meat? What the actual fuck?" Dacey snarled. "Get the fuck outta my bar!" She was yelling at the whole group of guys, as the Wolves players circled, sensing one of their own needed back up.

"You can't kick us out, bitch. We're customers," one of the idiots smirked.

Tormund and Bronn strolled over, followed by Jon Umber, who was hardly any smaller than Sandor. Quickly Theon, Jon, Gendry and Grenn joined them, so their little group ballooned to nine Wolves players. The Karstark twins were next, and then Arya, Jeyne and Wyn were there.

The group of six guys, despite being trashed, knew they were in deep shit.

Robb stepped forward. "That's my sister with her big ass boyfriend who could wipe the floor with all of you. And that woman you just called a bitch is mine. So get the fuck out of her bar, before we make you leave."

Sandor glanced at Dacey to see how she might react to Robb, calling her his girlfriend and saw the briefest flash of hope and longing. So the tough chick liked Robb Stark – this should be interesting to watch.

"Fucking pansy-ass hockey players," one of the morons muttered. "Come on, Brad. Let's go. This place is a shithole anyway. The chicks here are dogs."

Sandor reached out, quick as could be, held the beaky one up by his chest, so his legs dangled off the floor.

"I'm the only fucking dog here. Not my woman, not her friends. So watch what the fuck you're saying and have some manners."

"Holy shit, dude, shut up!"

"Let's just fucking go," another one whined.

Sandor saw the fear in his eyes and then the one he was holding went and pissed himself, just as Sandor threw him on the ground.

Dacey stepped out from behind the bar. "Get out now and don't come back."

All six scrambled to the exit.

When they were gone, Sandor watched as Dacey turned to Robb and drilled him with her finger.

"What the fuck was up with saying I was your girlfriend?"

Robb grinned and then grabbed her, pulling her close and kissing her. When he finally came up for air, Dacey was holding onto him.

"Dacey, my love, I've accepted your offer. Exclusive dating with no sex until you say."

Dacey, who still hadn't let go of Robb, narrowed her eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Then Robb leaned in and whispered in her ear, not that quietly so Sandor couldn't hear him add, "But you didn't say no fingers, hands, tongues or toys."

Sandor had to hand it to the guy; he had balls that was for sure.

Dacey cocked her head, assessing him, and then grabbed at Robb's shirt and pulled him close, winding herself around him and kissing the fuck out of him in the middle of her bar as everyone cheered.

She nipped at him. "I don't fucking share, Robb."

"Good."

Sansa was practically vibrating in happiness as Sandor scooped her up in his arms. She kissed him loudly as he carried them back to their seats. "They're going to be so happy!"

Sandor shook his head, wondering how he'd ended up with a little ray of sunshine as his girlfriend. When they got back to the booth, Sansa sat on his lap, snuggling into him as she gossiped with Jeyne, Wyn and Arya about Robb and Dacey.

"They need a name, like us," Sansa said. Then she looked at Arya.

"What's your name?"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Sansa?"

"Well, we're Sansan. And Robb and Dacey could be…" She scrunched up her nose as she was thinking. "Racey! They'll be Racey. And you and Gendry can be Gendya!"

"That's bad. Racey is good, and so is Sansan," Arya said. "But don't you dare call us whatever that name you came up with was."

Sansa pouted and then giggled as Sandor nuzzled her neck. "How much longer do you want to stay, little bird?" There was no way she could miss the wood he was sporting, and he wanted to get home to his dog. Home with her and Sweetie and blessed quiet. He was not a social man.

"Anytime, babe." She kissed him and moaned a bit, and it did nothing to make his boner go down.

"Sansa," he said, a warning growl in his voice.

"Fuck if I ever thought I'd see the day when you were sucking face with the Hound," Arya said, sipping her beer. "It's fucking weird."

"No, it's not. Look, our picture has over a million likes on Instagram."

Sandor swallowed hard. A million fucking people had liked a picture of Sansa cuddled up to him that she'd posted less than three hours ago. It was a trip.

"OMG, that's such a good picture of you two," Jeyne gushed. She'd seen it earlier, but she admitted she loved looking at it.

They lasted another half an hour, Sandor only half listening to Sansa and her girlfriends.

Bronn came by at one point, slapping him on the back and making eyes at Sansa. "How the fuck did an ugly dog like you end up with a woman like her?"

"Big ... muscles," Sandor snarked, and Bronn shrugged.

"Fair enough. I like her friend, the one who helps the dogs," Bronn said, winking at Jeyne.

Sandor rolled his eyes. "Oh, for fuck sakes, don't start that shit. We all know you're aren't looking for anything more than a quick fuck."

"Maybe she is as well," Bronn said, now smiling at Jeyne.

"Bad Bronn," Sansa said, joining their conversation.

"Well, love, not all of us can be as romantic as the Hound here."

Sansa's eyes narrowed, and Sandor chuckled. She was fierce when she felt anyone was disparaging him.

"Bronn Blackwater, I'll have you know that he's very romantic. And sweet. And cuddly." Sansa squiggled closer to him and then kissed his neck. "And he's super sexy."

Bronn titled his head, assessing her. "You know, sunshine, I believe you. Somehow, and don't fucking ask me how, you two work."

Sansa nodded sagely. "We do. We're Sansan."

Bronn snorted but wisely held his tongue.

"Alright, that's it," Sandor said, surging to his feet as Sansa laughed. "We're going home."

It took her another fifteen minutes to say goodbye to everyone. Jon and Theon wisely gave her quick, brotherly hugs as Sandor hovered. Sandor still couldn't figure out how Theon had never seen her for the fantastic person she was.

Then she had to hug Dacey and gossip about Robb. Sandor paced impatiently and shot her a look.

Her sister had one more question for her about dinner tomorrow night, and then finally, they were off. The crisp fall air was a welcome relief from the stuffiness of the bar, and Sandor sucked in a big breath.

"My house?"

"Yup. But can we pop by my place first?"

He arched an eyebrow. Sansa shrugged.

"I saw your gym, and I was hoping I could just hang out with you tomorrow until it's time to go to my parents for dinner. But I need some clothes and my laptop and a cell phone charger."

"You moving in?"

Sansa stilled and blushed, and Sandor cursed himself. He tugged her closer to him. "Little bird, look at me."

She did, and Sandor saw the uncertainty in her eyes.

"Baby, I didn't mean that in a bad way. I love having you at my place. And you can bring as much of your shit as you want."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Ok. Then let's go because I'm sure Sweetie will be waiting for us."

Sandor loved how comfortable Sansa was on his bike, how she clung to him and leaned into his body as he roared through town. He told her he'd check on Ric while she packed a bag, a bit nervous about going into the main house.

Ned opened the door and waved him in. It was barely 10 pm.

"Umm, just wanted to see how the rookie was doing?"

Ned grinned. "He's been bitching that he's better. He's downstairs in his mancave," Ned told Sandor. "How was the bar?"

Sandor shrugged. "A few assholes. I think Robb's ready to grow up. Dacey Mormont agreed to date him, but only if he withheld sex."

Ned smirked. "Smart woman." Ned clearly loved his son and was well aware of his reputation.

"She is.” Pause. Then – “My wife showed me the picture Sansa posted."

Ned crossed his arms and Sandor coloured. "Fucking hells," he muttered, barely able to meet Ned's eyes.

"Sansan, huh?"

"Jesus." Sandor scrubbed a hand down his face. "Look, I like her. Like a lot, Ned."

Ned eyed him up, saying nothing.

"I want to marry her. And if you say anything to her, I'll fucking hurt you, coach. But she's it. She's the one. And if she somehow falls in love with me and wants me, well, I promise I'll never hurt her."

Ned finally cracked a grin and laid a hand on Sandor's shoulder. "Oh, son, you'll hurt each other because no relationship is perfect. But as long as you'll always love her and respect her, we'll be fine."

Sandor swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. "Ric's downstairs. It'll mean the world if you pop down. I'll send Sansa down in a bit."

Sandor gave his coach one more nod and then hurried down the stairs. He hadn't meant to reveal all that shit to Ned, but the man just gave him that look, and he couldn't seem to keep his mouth shut. Plus Sandor needed Ned to know that Sansa wasn’t just some random chick to him.

Sandor found Ric on the couch, watching a movie that he paused when Sandor walked in. Sandor didn't miss the wince when Ric sat up.

"Hey man, what are you doing here?"

"Sansa's grabbing some stuff for my place. Wanted to see how you were?"

"I'm good."

Sandor gave him a look.

Ric sighed. "My back is sore, and my head fucking hurts. I hate Ramsay."

"Yeah, he's a fucker." They were quiet for a minute. "Sansa's hanging out at my place tomorrow. I was wondering if maybe you want to come by, spend some time with Sweetie."

Ric's entire face lit, and Sandor belatedly realized he hadn't run it past Sansa, but surely she wouldn't mind.

"Oh man, that'd be awesome. Maybe we can have a game of WHL on the Xbox."

Sandor nodded. "I'm sure we can work something out. Text me in the morning."

"Thanks, man," Ric said as Sandor rose to go and find Sansa. He was almost to the stairs when Ric said, "Oh by the way, I like the name, Sansan."

"Fucking hells," Sandor muttered and took the stairs two at the time. He knew that as long as he lived, he'd never lose that name.

Sansa was speaking with Ned when Sandor came upstairs and brightened when she saw Sandor. Sandor would never get over how much she seemed to like him.

Him.

Sandor Clegane.

The Hound.

The dirt poor kid that was beaten up regularly and starved and almost homeless.

Now he was dating the daughter of hockey royalty and a woman so beautiful and kind she stole his breath most days.

"Hi baby," she said and kissed him in front of her Dad, who didn't even blink at such a display.

"We will see you guys tomorrow night. Come over anytime."

"Umm, I kind of invited Ric over tomorrow mid-morning to play with the dog and maybe some Xbox."

"Oh, Sandor, that's so kind. I'm sure he's excited," Sansa said, clearly not upset at his impromptu plans with her brother.

"Yeah, well, the kid is going through some shit. It's the least I could do."

Sandor missed how Ned and Sansa looked at one another.

Finally, Sandor had Sansa back on his bike, grateful she didn't have too much shit. Between the two of them and the four blocks to his house, they managed. Sweetie greeted them at the garage door, wiggling her entire body. Sansa was happily chirping that she'd just put some of her stuff in the bedroom if that was ok and Sandor said he'd meet her up there.

Even with no practice tomorrow and the fact that it was only 10:30 pm on a Saturday, he could see that she wanted time with just him.

"Come on, girl, let's go do your business."

The pitbull had fit seamlessly into Sandor's life. He could hardly imagine a time when he didn't have her. She hadn't made a single mess in his house, loved it when they played fetch and snuggled up in his bed each night. His home, when Sansa wasn't there, was decidedly less lonely having Sweetie waiting for him.

He still felt so much anger when he thought how she'd been abused and wondered if they'd ever find out who had treated her in such away. Sandor knew he'd probably want to kill the fucker if he ever found out who he was.

When she'd sniffed every corner of his large yard and finally did her business in the corner that Sandor had dubbed _Shitsville_, she raced back over to Sandor.

Sandor locked the doors and did a final sweep through the lower level of the house before he walked upstairs to find Sansa.

If he was stunned speechless by her beauty, the fact that she was here, for a second straight night in a home that Sandor hadn't even been able to dream of when he'd been ten and starving and nursing another beating from Gregor, made him think his current life was a dream.

He understood that he'd been putting in time in Lannisport. Sure he'd won a championship and awards like MVP and best defenceman (three fucking years thank you very much), but he'd never really committed there. He'd never put down roots. He did what his coaches asked, and he knew he'd been a part of that team's success, but Tywin had always looked at him like he knew precisely where Sandor had come from, and the only reason he put up with him was that he was useful to him.

Sandor knew if he couldn't play another game, the Starks would still welcome him into their home. Thinking of the Starks made him think of the Marbrands, and he made a note to phone them tomorrow. Brenda loved it when she called him and gossiped about the latest news from around the league.

Then he was thinking about nothing but her as he smelled that unique Sansa perfume. He entered his bedroom to see she had chosen a side, sitting up in his bed, her laptop open, and her phone plugged in on the nightstand. She had a bottle of water and a book there as well, and Sandor was slammed with the rightness of the entire scene.

"Hi," she said softly and dog he was, Sandor grunted.

He managed to mumble something about the bathroom and ducked inside to wash his face, piss and brush his teeth. He stopped, seeing her girly shit there.

Creams and cleaners and make-up and just stuff. So much stuff that she took up a full quarter of his massive sink area. Thank gods he had two sinks in here. She'd folded the face cloth she'd used, and the little towel and everything was as neat as a pin.

He opened his shower and saw more of her shit: shampoo, conditioner, body wash and soap.

Sandor had barely had a real girlfriend in his life, let alone this level of domesticity with a woman. He paused and looked around, trying to figure out what he felt about it.

Then he grinned. He fucking loved it.

Quickly he did his business, putting his clothes in the laundry hamper because he wasn't a total fucking slob, and shut the bathroom light off, clad only in boxers. He wouldn't pressure her for sex, but she'd learn to live with seeing his body until she was ready for more.

He smirked as her eyes widened, and she licked her lips as he strutted through the bedroom, crossing in front of her to go to the other side of the bed. He slid under the sheets and dropped a kiss on her lips.

"Hey, little bird," he murmured against her lips.

"Hi," she responded, breathless.

From what Sandor could see, she was wearing a little tank top that did nothing to hid the red bra. He had no idea what she had on her lower half.

Sandor kept his lips on hers until she shoved her laptop away and drew him closer.

"What do you want tonight, baby?" he whispered in her ear. "Something a bit more?"

"More?" she whispered. "Like what?"

Sandor grinned. "Trust me?"

Sansa nodded.

Sandor had her tank top off, and the bra gone within moments, feasting on her breasts. He'd fucking dreamed of her tits last night, sucking them and kissing them and tugging on them. He did all of that, drawing her hard peaks into his mouth, making her moan and cry out his name, until finally, finally, he let his hand go lower.

He teased at the little thong he found there and was pleased she wore fewer clothes to bed tonight. Finding her slick, Sandor stroked through her folds, parting her until he sunk a finger inside her.

"Sandor, god, what you make me feel," Sansa said. She was writhing beneath him, and he would have smirked, but he was so turned on and wanted to make this good for her.

He kissed her mouth once more before he trailed his lips down her body, over her slim hips, pressing her into the bed. When he got to the thong, he looked up.

"Trust me?"

Sansa nodded. Then she said words that stopped Sandor's whole world. "No one's ever…" she blushed adorably.

Sandor stilled.

_What the actual fuck? Was she saying no man had kissed her pussy? Eaten her out? Made her come as they feasted on her?_

"Little bird?"

"No man has ever, you know…"

"Can I?"

She nodded, red as could be. Sandor felt like he did when he was on a powerplay, or killing a penalty, or about to score a goal. His entire world had narrowed to laser-like intensity on this woman beneath him.

Sansa.

His.

Fuck, he had to make this good for her; better than good. He wanted to rock her world, so she knew how she should be worshiped. He'd do this every fucking day for the rest of their lives if she let him.

Sandor pulled the thong down and had his answer from last night.

Red. Jesus Christ, he could imagine her with fiery hair to match the hair down here.

Sandor just gazed at her, undone by the trust that she had given him.

"Sandor?" her voice finally reached him, and he realized he'd just been staring at her.

"Fuck, baby, you're gorgeous," Sandor told her, voice thick with emotion.

"Yeah?"

"Oh gods, yeah, baby." Sandor tore his eyes away from her pussy and up to her eyes. "If there is anything I do that you don't like, you stop me, Sansa."

She smiled and nodded. "I will."

Sandor nodded and then parted her thighs and just inhaled her.

Fuck, she was the best thing he'd ever smelled. When he finally parted her and began to lick and suck, he paid close attention to how Sansa responded. Nothing too hard, nothing too aggressive, but steady, constant pressure was what she liked.

"Ohmygod," she moaned and pressed herself against him, lost in her pleasure as he kept up his attentions to please her.

"You taste amazing, Sansa. I could fucking live down here," he told her, wondering how she'd respond to his dirty talk. He loved that he was the first and hopefully the only man ever to know her this way; to give her this pleasure.

"Sandor, Sandor, Sandor," she chanted his name over and over as he devoured her.

She practically came off the bed when he sucked on her clit and drew it into his mouth until he sunk a finger inside her, and with mouth and fingers, she lost herself in the feeling and rode his face to a shattering orgasm.

She screamed his name when she came, and Sandor, hard as a rock for the second night, had never felt better in his entire life. She was almost shaking as she came down, and Sandor hurried up to pull her into his arms.

"Good?" he asked quietly.

Sansa had tears in her eyes. "I never knew," she told him. "Is it always like this?"

Sandor shook his head. "No. I don't think so. I think it's better when there are feelings."

Sansa dug her fingers into his chest hair, playing with him and surge up to kiss him, taking in her taste into her mouth.

"Hmmm," she said and then kissed him deeper. "Today has been amazing."

He grunted and reached over her to flick off the lamp.

"Happy?"

"So happy, Sandor."

The dog pushed into the bedroom then, and Sandor rolled his eyes when Sansa called her up.

"Can I be the little spoon again?"

Sandor smiled in the dark. "Yeah, you can be the little spoon." Sansa turned and curled in Sandor's arm, and peace stole over him. She was here, in his home, in his bed, and Sandor knew this was exactly where she wanted to be.

"Night Sandor."

"Night Sansa."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday with Sansan

* * *

_ Sansa_

Day two of waking up in Sandor's bed, in Sandor's arms, in Sandor's house was just as good as the first day.

Sansa tried not to overthink the fact that she was naked, in his arms, and that he was still wearing boxer-briefs. If the giant hockey stick in his shorts was any indication, Sandor had woken up as happy as her.

She wiggled a little as his hand lazily brushed her breasts, hardening the tips immediately. Sansa tried to bite back the moan, but it slipped out anyway, and she felt his chest rumble behind her.

"Morning, little bird," he murmured into her ear, taking her lobe into his mouth and tugging.

Her moan got louder.

How was it possible that he could make her want him so profoundly, so quickly? She and Harry had to work at their sex life, almost from the start. Sansa realized now, that it wasn’t supposed to be like that, as Sandor quickly flamed the embers of desire that seemed to always be there, waiting to burst into an inferno.

"Sandor, I just …," Sansa gasped as his large hand suddenly parted her legs gently as he sunk a finger inside her. "Oh, gosh… wow." Sansa wanted to be embarrassed by her words, but he made her feel too damn good to get caught up in her head.

Sandor kept stroking inside her, fanning the desire that seemed to radiate from deep inside her.

"I love watching you like this," he whispered. "Your entire body flushes so prettily, Sansa."

_Oh my god, now he was describing her desire? Who knew dirty talk could be such a turn on?_

More heat, more need.

More everything.

"Sandor," Sansa said, clutching at the one massive arm he had curled around her, trapping her to his body as the other hand masterfully played inside her.

"I like making you come. Hands, tongue," he continued, adding a second finger and twisting lazily as her hips bucked. "Fingers. I could do this every fucking day, Sansa, just to see you flush like this."

Sansa pushed back against him, grinding her ass into his dick, and making incoherent sounds that somehow he interpreted correctly.

"Soon, baby, soon," he told her, meaning he wasn't going to whip out his dick right now. Sansa had mixed feelings about that.

They were Sansan.

They were Instagram official.

They were Stark family approved.

And, more than anything, Sansa knew that Sandor wanted a lot more than just a hookup. This was a relationship, a full-on, committed partnership. They were building something here.

So while he might still be withholding the dick, Sansa had other ideas.

But first, she'd let him do his thing; he seemed determined after all to give her as many orgasms as he could.

Who was she to complain?

"I loved seeing all your girly stuff in my bathroom, Sansa," he was saying, his fingers inside her finding a steady, a rhythm that was driving her wild. She needed more; for him to touch her clit or stroke her harder. But the more she bucked, the more he chuckled, and Sansa knew he was making it his mission to torture her.

If that was the case, two could play at that game. Taking a deep breath, Sansa began to speak.

"I love being here, in your bed, Sandor."

Sandor grunted.

"Naked, so you can touch me whenever you want," Sansa kept going, feeling his fingers pick up the pace.

"I loved what you did last night, Sandor. No man had ever done that to me," Sansa said, moaning when he pinched her nipple harder and moved his fingers inside her, faster and faster.

"Fucking hells, Sansa."

She grinned and then cried out as his big thumb brushed her clit, pressing down and rubbing as his fingers dove in and out of her, and she came over his hand.

Panting, she twisted in his arms to see him bring his fingers to his mouth and lick them clean. His grey eyes were full of such raw need that it took Sansa’s already stolen breath away.

It should have been obscene, and dirty and no part of her should have liked it. But even as she was coming down from one orgasm, the sight of him licking her cream off his fingers sent another pulse of lust straight down to her needy core. Gods, she wanted this man so much.

She could see his grey eyes, dark and smoky, filled with desire for her.

"Delicious," he all but purred in that raspy, deep voice, and Sansa's nipples pebbled hard again.

Sandor didn't miss her reaction to him, and she saw him suck in a breath. Decision made, Sansa moved quickly now as she pushed him back against the bed and shimmied down his body. She needed to touch him, stroke him, taste him.

"Little bird," he started to say, but she shot him a look.

"My turn, boxers off, Sandor," she said in her bossiest voice.

Sandor grinned and somehow was out of them in seconds, leaving Sansa to stare in wonder at his dick.

"Holy shit," she whispered and then went to touch it, almost revenant as she approached him.

Sansa didn't know that dicks were that big; and not only big but attractive. Harry's always had kind of been thin and droopy and smallish.

Not Sandor's.

There could be poems or songs written about his dick.

Thick, long, hard and ready to go, Sansa moaned as she wrapped her hand around him.

It didn't fit.

Her hand did not fit around Sandor’s dick. 

"Holy moly," she whispered again, licking her lips. She couldn't tear her gaze away from it as she added her other hand to finally fully wrap around him.

Sandor's chuckle was the only thing that broke her gaze, and she glanced up at him to see the biggest, shit-eating grin on his face. He had his hands behind his head as he watched her, full of male confidence – like he knew his body kicked ass and now, so did she. And boy howdy, did she ever know. She was touching it. He was huge.

"Guess you can tell Dacey for sure I can back all this up," he said, gesturing to the tats and muscles and the washboard abs and the pure maleness of him that just went on and on.

"You could say that again," Sansa said, keeping both hands on him, stroking him. Then she looked back down, and a sly grin broke out across her face.

She leaned over him and sucked, taking him inside her mouth before he could stop her.

Of course, he hardly fit, barely more than the tip and some shaft, but Sansa did her best, working her hands, tongue and mouth to make this behemoth of a man beneath her feel the way he had her.

"Sansa," Sandor said, almost a warning growl in his voice.

Sansa turned her head to meet his eyes, him still in her mouth, and gave a slight shake of her head. Then she winked.

_She winked at a man as she had his penis in her mouth!_

_Who was she? How was this both fun and sexy and the best time of her life?_

"Little bird, I won't last. I'm too turned on, and you don't need to…"

Sansa sucked deeper as Sandor's hips began to buck into her mouth, as if he couldn't help himself and that what she was doing felt good to him.

"Fucking hells, Sansa, keep going," Sandor all but begged, and the feminine power that washed over Sansa fueled her efforts until she had two hundred and sixty pounds of an incoherent man begging her never to stop.

"That mouth, gods, fucking hell, feels so good," Sandor panted.

Sansa wanted to cheer in triumph. She had done this! She had made him feel this good! Her, Sansa Stark, good girl extraordinaire. 

Sansa doubled her efforts until he seemed to grow thicker and fuller, and she almost gagged, trying to keep him there.

"I'm close, baby, want me to pull out?"

Sansa shook her head and then stroked him harder until with a roar, he filled her mouth, his hot seed rushing down her throat and leaking out and down her chin. Sansa tried to swallow as much as she could, but damn if that wasn't a lot. She wiped her face on the sheets, thinking they could always change them later.

Before she could even recover, to ask if it had been good for him, Sandor had her in his arms, kissing her mouth, tasting himself on her.

"Fuck woman, what was that?"

"A blow job?" Sansa said, a bit uncertain. She hadn't done that too often with Harry, but it felt right with Sandor. And he’d finished, so surely that had to count for something?

"No, that was the best fucking thing anyone has ever done for me, Sansa." He kissed her again. "Gods, you're amazing."

Pleased with herself, Sansa snuggled into his arms, and they lay basking in one other.

"What do you want to do today?"

"Have you taken Sweetie for a run yet? I'd like to go for one this morning and wondered if you wanted to join me?"

Sandor nodded. "Yeah, it'd be good to get her out."

Sansa knew that Sandor preferred weight days in the gym over cardio, but on days he wasn't on the ice, he tried to run three or four miles.

"Then, if Ric comes over, I can spend some time with Yohn about make-up stuff, and I thought we could head over to my parents' place after that."

Sandor nodded and then made Sansa squeal as he shot from the bed and put her over his shoulder.

"Where are you taking me, crazy man?"

"Shower," was all he grunted, and Sansa grinned. She'd never showered with a man before.

She loved Sandor's shower and the stonework, and that everything here was big enough for the two of them. Sansa was still a little shy about being naked in front of him, but the way he gazed at her made her feel confident and bold.

And man, hands the size of him washing her long hair? Where had this man been?

Her moans had him hard again, but he batted away her hand as she reached for him.

"My turn," was all he said before he dropped to his knees, parted her legs and just dove into her, licking and sucking at her until she screamed his name again.

He was smirking when he rose again, and she rolled her eyes.

"It's not a competition, you know."

"It's not, but I'm going to win," he whispered in her ear, and Sansa had no response.

After all, the man seemed to determine that she come as much as possible and she wasn’t going to stop him.

Loose, relaxed and dressed in their workout gear, they headed downstairs, hand in hand. Sandor let Sweetie outside and then went to make them breakfast as Sansa checked in on her social media.

She'd been too caught up in Sandor to track what had happened with their picture she had posted last night.

"Ohmygod," she whispered as she opened her IG account.

She had eight million followers! Eight million!

Her and Sandor's picture had generated almost 3 million likes, and Pod had sent her some of the highlights. There were some snarky ones, a few that were downright mean, and of course, some that were just idiotic. But for the most part, #Sansan was a hit.

Her phone pinged, and she saw it was her Dad.

**Dad**: Your picture has crashed the Wolves website, my dear. I've invited Wyn over to discuss what we might do about this.

**Sansa**: I'm so sorry! OMG, I can't believe it.

Dad: No problem, sweetie. How is Sandor doing with the attention?

**Sansa**: TBD. See you later! Xoxo

Sandor was pouring the eggs into the pan when he glanced at her. "So, what's the verdict?"

Sansa told him about how many new followers she had, and how many likes they had, and the Wolves website crashing.

"And everyone likes me?"

Sansa met his eyes. "No. Not everyone. But not everyone likes me either Sandor. For every negative comment about you, there are at least two about me."

"You?" He looked shocked that such a thing was even possible. Sansa fell just a little bit harder for him at that moment.

Sansa nodded.

He snorted.

"I'm too shallow or I'm too pretty. I have weird eyes; my hair is awful. I'm too fat, and then others say I'm too skinny. I can’t please everyone.”

Sandor had stilled. He looked incensed on her behalf. "Fucking cunts. You're not any of those things."

"I know. And it's taken me a while to get over those negative people. Some people are just miserable, Sandor. And they are always going to be like that. I can't control them, nor do I want them to control me."

Sandor cocked his head as he looked at her. "Fair enough." He paused. "It's odd. I've kept out of the spotlight as much as possible, so this is all new for me, Sansa."

"Well, so far, the response has been overwhelmingly positive."

Sandor plated an omelet in front of her, somehow having made something that looked like it came from a restaurant in the time that Sansa was checking her accounts.

Holy shit, her guy could COOK! Sansa dove in, ravenous and happy, hardly believing how good her life was right now.

When breakfast was finished, comfortable in his kitchen, Sansa cleaned up. They were almost ready to call for Sweetie when the huge iMac screen lit up, indicating an incoming call from someone named Mama B.

Sandor blushed a bit and scrubbed at his face. "Uh, yeah, if I don't take this, she'll bug me all day."

He seemed almost embarrassed that someone cared about him.

Sansa grinned.

"I can wait."

Sandor glanced around. "Like here?"

Sansa smirked. "Yup. You've met my parents, Sandor, time for me to meet yours."

Sansa watched as her guy startled, clearly having not thought about it that way. She hurried to him and reached out to brush her lips against his. "As long as you're ok with that. No pressure, big guy. It can wait."

Sandor's hand reached out and grabbed her wrist. "No, it's nothing like that. I've just never…" He paused and swallowed hard. "No woman I've ever been with has wanted to meet them."

Sansa's heart physically ached at his words as she cupped her scarred cheek and stroked it.

"I'm not those women, Sandor."

He gave a jerky nod and then accepted the Facetime call from his mom in all but blood and name.

"Hey Mama B," he rumbled out, keeping his hand in Sansa's, who was grinning like a loon. The face of a pretty woman in her early fifties with curly dark hair and bright green eyes filled the screen. She looked cross at Sandor.

"Don't Mama B me, Sandy! How come I had to find out about you and SANSA STARK when she updated her Instagram page last night?"

Sandor frowned. "You have Instagram?"

She waved a hand. "Course I do! Don't change the subject. Tell me about your girl, Sandor."

Her voice had softened at the end, and Sansa knew this woman loved Sandor like her own son. He might not be able to see it fully since his childhood had been so awful, but Sansa could.

Sandor tugged Sansa into the frame so Mama B could see her. She let out a little cheer and clapped her hands.

"Hi, Mrs. Marbrand, I'm Sansa."

"Oh my dear, look at you! Why aren't you just the prettiest thing? I follow you on YouTube, of course, and your IG account, but my oh my, you're even more beautiful in person." Then she laughed again. "Well, not in person, but you know! Oh, and call me Mama B. Sandor's girl is family."

Sansa laughed, already loving Sandor's billet mom. "I will." This woman was awesome.

"And you two are now #Sansan?" Mama B had leaned in closer to the screen as if it were a secret, her eyes positively dancing with joy, as if she’d waited for someone to finally see the gem that was her Sandy.

"We are!"

"Fucking hell," Sandor muttered, seeing the two of them get along like a house on fire.

"Sandor! Language son," Mama B chastised him, but her dimpled smile told Sansa she didn't mind his potty mouth too much.

"Sorry, Mama B," he mumbled and Sansa bit her cheek to try not to laugh. This was so amazing.

"So, Sansa, tell me how you two met?"

Sansa glanced at Sandor and saw he was shuffling his feet.

"Tell you what, Mama B, why don't we exchange numbers and I'll call you when we get back from our run."

"Sounds good, dear. I'm just so tickled that Sandy has found someone. And a businesswoman as well." Then Mama B winked and rattled off her number with a passive-aggressive threat that if Sansa didn't phone her, she'd be calling later. "And I'd hate to interrupt something."

She wiggled her eyebrows and signed off.

Sandor was red and looking anywhere but the screen.

"Has she always been awesome?" Sansa asked and saw him immediately relax, as if he’d been afraid that Sansa wouldn’t like her.

Sandor nodded. "Yeah. She just took one look at me, hurried me into her van, took me shopping for clothes that actually fit, bought me a queen-sized bed and told me that her only rules were never to lie to her and always to respect women."

Sansa melted. Just fucking melted right there.

"Sandor," she choked out as she wrapped her arms around him.

Gods, this man just needed love. She'd never met anyone who was as dedicated to the people he put under his protection as she was.

"All good little bird. I survived."

_Yes, he did,_ Sansa thought. Survived and thrived to become the best players in the entire WHL.

He was a fighter. And he was hers.

"Let's run, baby," Sansa said, needing to move, so she wasn't a blubbery mess in his kitchen. Sandor gave her a grateful nod, as if he had been worried they’d be deep into the emotions this morning. Sansa knew they had plenty of time to figure everything out.

He whistled for Sweetie and attached her harness and then they were out the door.

It was a gorgeous fall morning and as they warmed up Sansa asked about his routine as he ran. Sandor said he didn't care if she listened to music, but she was more interested in him.

Right before they were set to leave, Sansa took out her phone.

"Do you mind?"

Sandor shook his head, and Sansa tugged him to his knees, so his arms were around Sweetie, who was smiling, Sansa swore, and she kissed Sandor's cheek. She added a filter and then the hashtags:

#coupleswhoruntogetherstaytogether

#Sansaninshape

#Sundayfunday

_Our first run together! Meet Sweetie, the best rescue dog ever! For more information on the no-kill shelter where she was adopted from visit them here._

Sansa included the shelter's website and then had Sandor read it.

"We look good," he said gruffly as Sansa agreed. She posted it and then tucked her phone away.

They set out leisurely, testing one another and the dog. She kept up to him easily, and by the time the first mile was behind them, all three of them had settled into a comfortable rhythm. They ate up block after block, working their way closer to the lake, but never quite turning fully towards it.

Sandor was surprisingly light on his feet for a big man, and Sansa was having the best time when suddenly Sweetie came to a halt. She had stopped and pinned her ears back, baring her teeth in a low growl.

Sandor looked up to see Ramsay standing on the sidewalk a few feet from them.

"Dog. Bitch." Laughing at his joke, Ramsay's sneering smirk made Sansa's skin crawl.

"Easy girl," Sandor said, laying a hand on her head and trying to calm her down.

Sansa looked at the dog and then Ramsay and the sick feeling in her stomach intensified. Sweetie loved everyone.

"Beautiful dog, Dog," Ramsay said, as Sandor shuffled closer to Sansa.

"What the fuck do you want, Bolton?"

Ramsay's eyes were on Sweetie as she whimpered and practically hid behind Sandor's legs.

When his eyes rose to Sandor's Sansa, saw pure hate there, for all three of them, and she shivered in the warm, fall morning.

"What do I want?" He snorted. "I wanted to be on the Wolves. I wanted the place I was owed on the team. I wanted my fucking money for doing my job."

"Did it to yourself, Bolton."

Ramsay smirked and then bowed. "Until we meet again." Then he turned and was gone, and Sansa reached for Sandor's hand.

"I want to go home," she whispered, and Sandor tugged her closer.

"It's alright, little bird. I'll keep you safe from him."

When they got back to Sandor's, they called Ned and told him about their encounter with Ramsay.

"Would you talk with the police?"

Sansa said she would. "Dad, there is something not right with him. I think Sweetie was his. He was looking at her like he owned her."

Ned sighed. "On Monday we will go to the Wintertown police and speak with them. It's all we can do. That and be vigilant."

"Where does he live?" Sandor asked suddenly, and Ned shook his head.

"I don't know, but I'll try to find out."

"He was here for a reason Ned. I don't like it."

Ned agreed and then knowing there wasn't anything else he could do right now, said Ric was dying to come over.

"Yeah, but have him drive," Sandor said, and Sansa could see that he was still uneasy about his encounter with Ramsay.

His care for Rickon touched her, and as she went upstairs to shower and change, she loved that she had such a strong man to keep her and her family safe.

* * *

_ Sandor _

The encounter with Ramsay deeply unsettled Sandor. The fucker had crazy eyes; evil eyes. Sandor knew eyes like that. He'd lived with eyes like that.

His father had been a useless drunk that smacked Sandor around occasionally. It had gotten worse after his Mom died, but Sandor had been quick and it was easy to avoid his old man.

It was his brother that was the true monster in the Clegane house.

It was Gregor that had pushed and held Sandor's face to the heater in their piece of shit house when he'd caught Sandor playing with one of his action figures. Gregor had been bigger and stronger, and Sandor hadn't stood a chance. Sandor had been six, Gregor ten, and his Dad could barely rouse himself to take Sandor to the emergency room for treatment.

His mother had done what she could and have even scraped enough money to try and get the proper burn cream for him, but the damage had been too extensive for that to do much more than numb some of the pain.

When Sandor had been really little, he had a sister. Something happened, something his family did not speak of, and she was suddenly not there. She wasn't even a year old, and she was dead. Sandor had been too little to remember her, but as he grew up, he knew in his bones that Gregor had done something to her. Everyone in his family was scared of Gregor; even his Dad. 

After their mother died, Gregor got even worse. When he was home, he tormented the shit out of Sandor, beating him, whipping him, taking all kinds of rage out on his younger sibling.

Sandor had finally run away from home at twelve, starved, scared and disillusioned. That’s when Addam had found him hiding in the local rink at Ashemark, a few towns over from Sandor's hometown.

Sandor didn't know how, but somehow Addam had gotten Sandor away from his father. He never asked, worried if he did, he'd be sent back.

It had taken a full year for Sandor to trust that the Marbrand's weren't going to kick him out. He was huge; he knew he ate way too much, and he went through clothes monthly. And yet they'd never complained, just fed him and took him to the rink and gave him a proper bed and clothing and never asked for anything other than he try his best.

Mama B, as she insisted he call her, was a librarian and had taken a keen interest in his academics. And Addam had been a local hockey coach. They didn't have a lot of money, but they did have endless patience for a broken kid that desperately needed a home.

They had one son, but he'd died of cancer when he was seven, leaving the Marbrand's childless.

Until Sandor.

Sandor knew that they loved him like a son. He knew that family wasn't biology.

Sandor had purchased them a new home when he'd signed his first big contract in the WHL and continued to spoil them whenever they let him. He owed them everything. They had saved his fucking life.

He also knew that he'd do anything to keep Sansa and the Starks safe from someone like Ramsay. Because he knew what men like him were capable of. He'd lived with a monster. And monsters never changed.

Sansa was shaken, and Sandor gathered her close, promising they'd deal with Ramsay. Sandor suspected that Sweetie had been his, and he knew the fucker had taken sick pleasure in the dog's suffering. Sandor had wanted to rip him limb from limb but needed to be smart. And he needed to protect Sansa.

He held her in the shower as she shook, and raged and cried, and he knew she felt as intensely for his dog as he did.

“He did those awful things to her, Sandor, I just know it.”

Sandor had hoped that with Ramsay off the team, he had left Wintertown, but clearly not.

Sandor would do everything in his power to protect Sansa from Ramsay, from the real-life monster that was now in their lives. His blood went ice cold when he thought of her being in the North without him; what might have happened if he hadn't been traded to the Wolves.

Finally, when Sansa had cried herself dry, she raised her eyes to Sandor's.

"I hate him," she whispered, and Sandor grunted out his agreement. He felt the same.

"I know. But we need to be smart."

"Yeah, I know."

"Ric's probably almost here."

Sansa sighed and finally turned the shower off, reaching for a towel. She had some work to do and was planning on talking with Mama B while Sandor and Ric played Xbox.

When Ric knocked on the door, Sandor opened it and invited him in. Then he brought both Sansa and Ric to his kitchen and gave them both keys to his house and the code to the alarm.

"You both need to be on alert."

His tone was deadly serious and then nodded. Sandor breathed out a sigh of relief that they weren’t fighting him on this.

"I'm not fucking around. I know men like Ramsay. They're evil. They like to hurt those that are weaker than them."

Ric swallowed hard. "We'll be safe, Sandor."

"Sandor, I promise I'll keep my eyes open."

Sandor was worried about Sansa the most. "I'm going to look into private security, Sansa."

She opened her mouth to protest, and sensing this was a private moment, Ric escaped into the great room. Sandor pulled Sansa close to him.

"Baby, look at my face."

She did.

"My brother did this to me when I was six. He was a true monster, Sansa. And Ramsay has the same eyes as him. I know he hurt my dog, Sansa, even if I can't prove it."

She swallowed hard, and he saw a healthy dose of fear and trepidation there. He hated it but knew she had to understand how significant a threat a person like Ramsay was.

"I just found you, Sansa. I couldn't survive if something happened to you. Please just trust me on this."

Sandor never begged. He never asked for other's opinions just did whatever he wanted. He never had to in his life since there had never been anyone else to care about.

But now, now there was Sansa. And she was the most important person to him.

"Ok."

His shoulders sagged in relief, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. With a little luck, Ramsay would be traded and out the North, and the threat to her minimized. But for now, Sandor would do whatever was necessary to keep her safe.

"Go be with Ric. I'm going to log onto a call with Yohn," Sansa told him, and he nodded, kissing her once again.

Sandor went into the Great Room and flopped on the couch beside Ric.

"Things good?"

"Yeah," Sandor grunted. "You be safe as well and watch out for him."

"Fucker."

Sandor had nothing to say to that; he agreed completely.

Sandor half-heartedly paid attention to the game; Ric talked enough for both of them and seemed to just like being here with him so that was cool. 

Sandor kept an ear on the conversation Sansa was having with her guy, Yohn, about make-up palettes for the holiday season. Sandor didn't really understand a fucking word. There were market shares, inventory, sales and marketing and Sandor was once again reminded how smart she was. She might make videos on her YouTube channel and post selfies on IG, but underneath all of that, beat the heart of a savvy businesswoman. Sandor respected the hell out of that.

When she was done, Sansa came and sat with them on the couch, happily showing him their latest selfie, which had another million hits.

Sandor snorted at some of the comments, everything from how cute Sweetie was, to how hot he was.

"They're fucking crazy," he muttered as Rickon grinned.

"Dude, you're viral. Sansan is freaking everywhere. Dad said we sold out."

Both Sandor and Sansa turned to Ric. "Like for opening night, right?" Sansa asked.

Ric shook his head. "Nah. Like for the freaking season. Everyone wants Sansan. Be glad almost no one knows where you live."

Sansa giggled at Sandor's horrified expression. "Don't worry, baby, and I'll be here every step of the way."

Then she kissed him as her phone rang. "Be back soon. That's Mama B."

Sandor didn't even want to know what those two would talk about, but seeing as he had no balls when it came to Sansa, and certainly had no say over Mama B, he knew it was a lost cause. They’d be best friends by the time the week was out and he’d be helpless to stop it, even if he wanted to.

Sansa came back an hour later, grinning like a cat that had just had to the whole bowl of cream.

"I love Mama B, Sandor. She's amazing."

Sandor lifted his arm as Sansa snuggled in closer to him. "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. She's so awesome. And she gave me a whole new set of books to read. Hockey romances!"

Sandor snorted. Mama B never changed. The woman loved her husband, him, her son, hockey and romance novels. And lord help him if she and Sansa became best friends. The woman would know everything about his life. He'd barely been able to keep her at bay when he'd lived in Lannisport, and she was in Ashemark. Coming North, he'd been able to hold her off, but if the smile on his girlfriend's face was any indication, any scrap of privacy Sandor had been enjoying in the North, would be long gone.

As if on cue, Sansa's phone chimed, and she giggled and shook her head, muttering something about Mama B. Sandor didn’t even ask; he didn’t want to know.

A few hours later, Sandor rounded up the Starks and Sweetie. He told them he wanted to run into town to pick something up for their Mom.

"Holy shit, dude, she's going to love you." Ric was grinning at him.

Sandor was nervous. He'd gotten along with Cat at the Stark family BBQ, but this was a whole different story. He and Sansa were dating. They were an internet sensation. They were Sansan. And no matter what, even with his fancy house and expensive car, Sandor was still just a poor kid with a shitty family and almost no education. Sansa had a double master's degree. He knew he'd never be worthy of her.

Still, Sandor wasn't giving Sansa up, and he wanted to make the best impression on her Mom.

Ric grinned at them and took Sweetie, saying he'd take his truck back to Winterfell and see them there.

Sansa didn't say much as they drove into Wintertown. He liked that about Sansa. As much as she was always chirping away when it came to the serious shit, she gave him a bit of space. Of course, he always ended up telling her whatever was on his mind, but she didn't pressure him.

Sandor had checked earlier, and the store he wanted was open for a few more hours. The little shop was tucked into the corner of a strip mall and called _A Warm Hug_.

Sansa arched an eyebrow at him, and Sandor sighed, killing the engine.

He stared at the store, feeling Sansa's hand on his back, stroking him lightly.

"When my Mom got sick, she went through chemo and radiation treatments. I think they were harsher than what's going on with your Mom." He got a faraway look in his eyes and Sansa waited patiently. He heaved out a sigh.

"I don't know what the fuck it was, but her skin got extra sensitive. The blankets in the hospital were shit, and she hated all those gowns. She'd been in there for about two months, and I remember this lady came by with the softest blanket and gave it to my Mom. Some charity thing, but fuck, Sansa, I swear my Mom had that blanket on her until the day she… passed. She loved it and said other than my hugs, it was the best thing she ever received in there."

Sansa's hand kept up a steady, comforting presence on his back and neck, and Sandor was so grateful for her. He needed to get this out, to purge his soul.

"What happened to the blanket?"

He couldn't school his reaction, and his fist tightened. "My Dad threw all her stuff out."

Sandor looked at Sansa then, and she had tears streaming down her face. She was so open, so caring, so perfect. He cupped her cheek, wiping away her tears; tears for him.

"It's was a long time ago, Little Bird."

"It was a horrible thing to do," she said, voice fierce and strong. "I'm so sorry, Sandor."

He choked back his own tears. He remembered how awful it was to be in that room when his Mom laboured to take her last breaths. It had been horrendous, and his father insisted that he and Gregor needed to be there, to be Clegane men that didn't flinch from anything.

Sandor had kept it together until her chest stilled and then ran from the room. When he'd finally come back, his father had packed up all her stuff in the hospital room and threw it in the dumpster on their way out of the hospital. Sandor had tried to climb in to grab it, but Gregor had hauled him away, as he'd kicked and screamed. A cuff to the side of his head had Sandor seeing stars, and he knew it was all lost to him.

Still, he remembered how much his Mom had loved the soft blanket, and when he'd been invited to dinner at the Stark house, he researched them and found a local store.

"Will you help me pick something she'd like?"

Sansa sniffed and dabbed at her face. "Of course."

He held her hand as they entered the store, his massive bulk and tattoos at odds with the soft music and floral scent. Sansa reached a hand out and felt the Minky fabric and sighed.

"Oh, this is quite lovely, isn't it," she said and sent him a smile like he was her hero or something.

"What colour?" he asked gruffly. He didn’t want to get Cat something she wouldn’t like.

There were all types and kinds, and some even had patterns. Sandor's Mom's blanket had been chocolate brown. He had no idea what Catelyn Stark might like. Sansa pulled him deeper into the store until they stopped by a soft white one with grey swirls.

"I think she'd like this one."

Sandor grunted and grabbed the largest one. When they got to the cashier, Sansa asked if it could be gift wrapped, and the woman nodded and swiped Sandor's credit card.

Back in the car, Sandor said he had one more stop. When they pulled into the grocery store, he mumbled something about popsicles.

"For after chemo treatments."

Sansa's eyes were suspiciously shiny, but she said nothing, helping him load several boxes into their grocery bag and check out.

Finally, on their way to Winterfell, Sansa reached for his hand.

"I've never been with anyone like you, Sandor Clegane."

He looked a bit startled and then smiled. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "I'm trying really hard not to go too fast, but you're making it awfully difficult."

Sandor smirked.

"What's fast, little bird?"

She snorted. "Me moving into your house."

Sandor laughed, not nearly as disturbed by that thought as he should be. He'd received several text messages from Mama B telling him when you found the ONE, you knew.

Sandor knew. Sansa was it for him.

Thankfully, Sandor was saved from answering Sansa by arriving at Winterfell. He wanted to grab all her shit and have her stay with him permanently, but that might be a bit too fast, even if she was looking at him like he hung the fucking moon.

As they approached the front door, Sandor felt like a bit of a jackass with his gift bag and a grocery bag of popsicles, but he'd committed, and he wasn't a pansy.

Sansa had his hand, and walked right inside, calling out that they were there.

Sweetie came racing over to greet him, followed by Ned, who shook his hand and welcomed him back to Winterfell. Nothing was said, but today he was here as 'Sansa's Boyfriend,' and not as the Captain of the Wolves.

"Ned."

"Sandor."

Sansa led him towards the kitchen/great room, and Sandor saw Catelyn sitting on the couch. He glanced around, seeing Robb making Dacey laugh, Arya, Gendry and Ric in the kitchen eating nachos, and Jon and Wyn by the back deck. Sweetie raced around sniffing at everyone, while Ned indicated the football game on the big TV that was muted.

It wasn't quite warm enough for a pool day today, and Sandor got the feeling that everyone was inside due to Cat. Her face looked tired, and Sandor knew that look well. He’d seen his Mom fake it when he’d visited, even though she was exhausted.

Catelyn smiled at him, but he could see the pain and fatigue there. Cancer was a fucking asshole.

Sandor thrust the gift bag at her. She appeared startled and then a genuine smile broke out on her face.

"What's this?"

"For you," he said gruffly, everyone had fallen silent to watch what was happening. Sandor felt like a freak with everyone’s eyes on him, but he was committed and he’d own this shit. And he’d punch anyone who made fun of him.

Catelyn unwrapped his present the way Sandor figured a Mom was supposed to, with quiet dignity. When she pulled out the blanket, though, she couldn't hide her shocked pleasure, and she gasped, sinking her fingers into the soft fabric.

"Oh my word, this is divine," she said, glancing towards Sandor, who was holding hands with Sansa. A world of explanation went between them. "Thank you, Sandor."

He nodded and then indicated the grocery bag. "Popsicles," he said, and she laughed.

"Oh, you clever man. I wonder how my family will ever top this." She winked at Sandor and rose to kiss him on his cheek, his scarred one because that was the type of woman she was and hugged him. "Welcome to the family, Sandor."

Ned was there to cradle his wife in his arms, too choked up by the gift from Sandor to say much of anything.

Even the ordinarily smart ass combination of Arya and Robb had gone silent, full respect in their eyes for Sandor.

Robb held out his hand and pulled the man in for a hug. "That's fucking solid, brother."

It wasn't just Sansa; it was this family and the Wolves and everything. Sandor was fucking welcome here.

Arya gave him a fist bump. "Pretty cool, Hound."

That was high praise from the mouthy little trainer.

Ric took the popsicles and stored them in the freezer as Sansa went to the kitchen to help Mordane with dinner, and Sandor was handed a beer.

Sandor overheard Dacey and Wyn talk about how amazing he was, and that made him feel good. Sandor knew that friend approval was huge when you first started dating.

Talk turned to Ramsay, and Sandor told Robb, Ned and Jon he was getting private security for Sansa.

When they scoffed, Sandor told them exactly the type of man Ramsay was. "Do not underestimate him."

"You think he's that dangerous?" Robb looked skeptical.

Sandor nodded, taking a long swig of beer. "I do. I know he's behind the torture of my dog. And there is something in his eyes. I know that look."

None of them asked for details, but everyone knew that Sandor had a story. With his tone, that brooked no argument, Sandor finally felt like he'd gotten through to them about how serious to take the threat of Ramsay Bolton. All the Stark men agreed to be extra vigilant.

Dinner was interesting. Not quite the stuffy, formal affair that Sandor had been expecting.

Sandor realized that the Starks might be hockey royalty, but they were pretty normal.

Arya and Robb sniped at each other the entire dinner while Rickon kept chiming in at inopportune times. In between talk of hockey, Sansan, social media and the upcoming pre-season games and visit by Mini Tully, Dacey and Robb were giving each other cow eyes.

Sansa sat by Sandor and smiled at him, making him feel more relaxed as the night went on. Dinner was terrific, and he had to stop himself from taking thirds.

Sansa winked at him. "Baby, you're huge. Eat as much as you want." Then she patted his ripped stomach and Sandor coloured, but took another helping, praising Mordane when she came in with dessert.

Afterwards, Sandor and Ned sat out on the back deck in the fall night and discussed the team, each with a scotch in their hand.

"I like how happy my daughter is with you, Sandor."

Sandor liked how Ned used his name. He wasn't Clegane or the Hound, just Sandor with Ned.

"She's one in a million."

Ned nodded and crossed his ankles. "She is."

They were silent for a time, each comfortable with the other.

"Pre-season game in King's Landing next weekend. We ready, Captain?"

Sandor grunted. "Yeah. Ric gonna travel with us?"

Ned nodded his head. "Like I could keep him away. Robb would probably sneak him on the plane."

"It'll be good for him to be around the guys."

A door opened, and Sansa slipped outside with Sweetie, the dog happy to run around the huge yard. Sansa sat on Sandor's lap, shocking him a bit, wondering what Ned might think. But Ned simply had a serene look on his face, as if he was completely ok with their relationship.

"How's your Mom doing, hun?"

Sandor felt Sansa sigh. "Tired Dad. She went upstairs a few minutes ago."

"You're sure with the season starting, it's not too much? We are away next weekend."

"No, Dad. I've got it under control." Sansa had already agreed to watch Sweetie for him.

His dog came running back, settling under Ned's hand for a scratch.

Sansa turned her head, so her mouth was against his ear, his good ear. "Are you sure you're ok with me taking care of Sweetie?"

"Yeah, I mean, if you're fine with it. You can stay at my place."

Sansa grinned and kissed him. “Awesome. I need to bring more stuff over.”

Sandor loved it.

"Careful, little bird, or I'll think you want to move in."

She grinned and wrapped her hands around his neck. "Stop you. It's just easier with my job if I have some stuff there, so I'm not running back and forth. OH! I might set up a YouTube spot in one of your spare rooms. Just if you're ok with that?"

Sandor rumbled out a laugh. "Yeah, do whatever you'd like."

"Smart move Sandor,” Ned said, grinning at the two of them. “It’s easier to let them do what they want; they always wear you down eventually.”

Robb, Dacey, Gendry, Arya, Jon and Wyn popped their heads outside, saying they were going a late movie.

"Want to join?"

Sansa shook her head. "No, we're good. We're just going to go home in a few."

"Practice, weights and then team meeting tomorrow," Sandor said, giving both Jon and Robb a knowing look. Both guys nodded at Sandor. 

"Oh!" Sansa said, sitting up on Sandor's lap.

"When you guys are in King's Landing, can you stop by my old apartment. Harry's being an ass and keeping a few things of mine."

Robb cracked his knuckles, and Sansa rolled her eyes. She gave Sandor an imploring look.

"Can you go with them to make sure they're not total dicks to him?"

Sandor sputtered out a cough. How on earth did Sansa think he didn't want to punch Harry, the male model in the face? The guy was an ass of the highest order.

"Yeah, I'll go," Sandor said and met Robb's eyes and they shared a knowing look.

"What are you to cooking up?" Sansa said, waving a finger between the two of them.

"Nothing, little bird, we'll be fine."

"Yeah, San. We'll be good."

"No violence. He's fragile, not like you guys."

Jon snorted, and Robb snickered. Sandor was smarter than that and said nothing as Sansa glared at the others.

When the rest had gone, Sandor and Sansa spent a few more minutes with Ned before finally rising to leave themselves. Sandor was excited to go home, with Sansa, who darted back to her house to grab 'a few more things.'

Ned was admiring Sandor's car when Coach clapped him on the back.

"Thanks, Sandor. For being here for our family."

"Thanks for accepting me."

"We're going to kick ass this season, Sandor."

Sandor grinned. "We are coach."

They were grinning at each other when Sansa was back with a little rolling case she claimed had make-up, another bag with clothes and another one with shoes.

Ned arched an eyebrow as if asking if how had she packed all that in the five minutes she was gone. Then Ned looked at Sandor. "Good luck, son." Sandor shook his head and loaded her shit into his car.

"Ready to go home, babe," Sansa chirped, and Sandor's whole chest warmed.

"Yeah, baby, let's go home."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-season game in King's Landing

_ Sandor  _

Sandor stretched his long legs, grateful that official travel with the team was a private jet for them. It meant he didn't have to try and squish himself into a seat, even a first-class one, and was free to relax as the plane taxied down the runway. It was Friday afternoon, and they'd be in King's Landing in less than two hours for their first pre-season games of the season this weekend. 

Unlike others who were on their phones or chatting with one another, Sandor crossed his ankles and closed his eyes and thought back to the week he'd just had, a slight grin on his face. Fuck, his life had changed. And all for the better.

After the Stark family dinner, Sandor had helped Sansa bring more of her stuff to his house. By some unspoken agreement, they just made it work, with him shoving some of his suits out of the way and giving her free reign in the closet.

His woman rubbed her hands at that thought, and dove right in, happily puttering about his massive bedroom as he'd gone downstairs to watch sports highlights. With the season ramping up, they were doing features on each team. The analysts got about half the shit right, but it was a ritual Sandor had gotten into during his second season, and he'd made a point of sticking to it. They often had the latest injuries and trade information and it was an easy way to keep himself immersed in the game.

Not for the first time, was Sandor glad how much Sansa liked hockey. Life would be almost impossible if she wasn’t passionate about it.

For so long, hockey had been Sandor’s entire life, and even though he was happy to make room for her, and his dog, who was curled up beside him snoring, he was still insanely dedicated to it. Sandor knew that Sansa got it; she understood, from growing up with her Dad, what it meant to be a pro athlete.

Not the press, and the endorsements and the money and women, but the hard fucking work, the dedication, the long hours. The pain, the sacrifice, the hours that the best of the best spent honing themselves to be even better. Road trips, weekend games and endless work in the community. All of it was a huge commitment, and Sansa got it.

When Sandor had come to bed an hour later, his room was the same, but not. He glanced around and saw Sansa everywhere. She had stuff on her nightstand, as she'd claimed her side of the bed, a few extra pillows that were some soft pink colour (how she snuck those in was beyond him), and a Stark family photograph on one of his dressers. He went to his closet to change and grinned at how she'd lined her shoes up, and how she'd neatly put her clothes away. It felt odd, but a good odd to see her stuff there with him. Sandor had never even come close to living with a woman before, so this was all new territory for him.

In the bathroom, there was even more stuff if that were possible. When he glanced down he saw that it was her make-up label that she used in private. 

From the four hours of watching her on YouTube, he knew she tested a lot of different brands of make-up and cleaners, but she appeared to be loyal to herself when it came to what she used privately and on a day to day basis.

He did his business and shut off the bathroom light, loving how she smiled up at him from where she was working on her laptop.

He'd pulled the covers back and crawled into bed, watching as she shut it down and cuddled into his arms. He sensed that she was tired. The day had been long and emotional, so he held her, not pressing for more. They had all the time in the world for more, and this, holding her, her here, again, in his bed, was worth the wait.

"Thanks for everything today," she told him, tilting her head for a kiss.

He obliged and then cuddled her closer, her happy sighs making him feel like every one of his millions of dollars he earned. Sansa Stark had chosen the Hound.

"Night Sandor."

"Night little bird."

Of course, the next morning, he'd woken up with a raging hard-on, which had resulted in more oral play (he was still winning in the orgasm count) and a very pleased Sandor as he went to the rink for the day.

No one could miss just how relaxed, and loose he was. He was un-fucking-touchable on the ice, and more than one of his teammates commented he had to be getting laid. Sandor smirked, saying nothing.

There were drills in the morning, followed by PT with the trainers, making sure none of them had nagging injuries that might worsen, some weight training, a team meeting and then a light afternoon scrimmage. That would be their routine for the week. Each day was packed and Sandor was getting jacked for the first pre-season games. It was always like this for him; the closer they got to game day, the more locked in he became.

After they were done for the day, Ned pulled Sandor aside, and they went down to the Wintertown police station, meeting Jeyne and Sansa there to discuss Ramsay.

The officer took their information, their concerns, their worries, but with nothing concrete, with no ‘evidence’ it would remain an open file. They promised to look into it, but Sandor could see they were getting the brush off.

"What about a restraining order?" Sandor asked gruffly, and the officer nodded.

"We can start one if that's what Ms. Stark would like."

Sansa looked at him, and he gave her a nod. It was ultimately her call, but he'd feel better about it. It was something at the very least, and it would be on record and send a message to Ramsay that they were taking him seriously. And if the fucker violated it, then the cops would have something on him.

When it was all done, Sansa hugged her Dad and said she'd see him tomorrow to pick Mom up for her next treatment, which meant Sandor got a whole night with her.

Back in his kitchen, he gave her a funny look.

"I have to make a call."

“What about?”

"Private security."

Sansa nodded.

"You can stay, but it might not be that… pleasant."

He could see the curiosity on her face and sighed.

"It's to Tywin Lannister. He knows people."

More than curious now, Sansa poured herself a glass of wine.

“Is he as mean as they say he is? Ohhhhh does he sound like a bad guy on TV?”

She had an eager expression on his face and Sandor shook his head at her as he took out his phone and dialled the owner of the Lannister Lions, keeping it on speakerphone so she could hear.

Only for her would Sandor make this call. He was still pissed he’d been cast aside by Tywin, even though he loved the North.

"Clegane," came the low, raspy voice, full of power and disdain.

Sansa wiggled her eyebrows at Sandor, who suppressed a snort. Didn’t she know how powerful Tywin was? If she did, she certainly wasn’t intimidated by him.

"Done with the North? Regretting your choice already?"

Sandor heaved out a sigh. He'd never been anything more than the Hound to Tywin when he'd played for the Wolves. He hated the gloating he could hear in the old man’s voice as if Sandor would come crawling back.

"No. I need a favour."

Tywin snorted. "As far as I know, you and I are not in the business of trading favours. Not when you refused to take a pay cut to play for the Lions."

"And why should he? He's the best in the league, and he deserves his salary." Sansa had leaned in to speak into Sandor’s phone.

There was silence on both ends of the phone as Sandor shot Sansa a look; one mixed trepidation that she'd offended the Lion's owner, and awe that she'd defended him. To Tywin fucking Lannister! 

"And who might you be? Another bunny, Clegane? How rote." The man’s snort carried through the phone.

Sansa snorted. "Sansa Stark, Mr. Lannister, and don't bunny me."

Sandor was in awe of her. She was giving it to Tywin!

"So it's true?" Tywin said, and Sandor could hear the curiosity in his voice. He knew what Tywin was thinking. How had a dog like him ended up with a woman like her? “You two are an … item.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. The man sounded like a snob.

"We have a problem, Mr. Lannister and Sandor thinks that you can help. But if you're going to insult us, then we'll figure it out on our own."

"So she has teeth," Tywin purred, “How very interesting, Ms. Stark.”

Sandor snarled.

In his ten years with the Lions, Sandor had seen Tywin charm his way through way too many women. The rumours that he never bedded any of them had never been confirmed or denied.

Regardless, Sandor did not want Sansa to have any more interactions with Tywin than necessary.

"I need a recommendation for the best private security in Westeros," Sandor gritted out.

"For who?"

"Me," Sansa said, her voice suddenly small and quiet. "There's a player on the team, and he's causing problems."

"Surely you've gone to the police," Tywin said.

"We have. But I won't take any chances- not with her."

Tywin hummed and then finally spoke again. "Baratheon Security is the best in the business, Clegane."

Then he hung up.

A quick search showed that Baratheon Security was the best; and the most expensive. Still, it mattered little. Sandor had millions in the bank and very sound investments. He could afford the best in the business for Sansa. Her safety was everything.

"Are you sure about this?" Sansa asked, worrying her lip.

Sandor dragged her into his arms.

"Indulge me, please, baby?"

His stomach was in knots at the thought of leaving her for their weekend games in King's Landing. Ramsay knew their schedule and he knew that they'd be away. If he was going to strike, Sandor knew it would be then.

Seeing the worry in his eyes, Sansa had agreed, and Sandor had emailed the company, stating that his need was urgent. It was barely two hours later when he'd received a phone call from Shireen Baratheon, twenty-two, asking when he and Sansa would be available for a consultation.

"On the phone?"

"In-person, Mr. Clegane. Baratheon Security Inc takes our clients' safety very seriously."

"Uhm, give me a minute." Sandor wandered through his house, finding Sansa outside on the back deck with Sweetie, her laptop open as she was reviewing colour palettes and throwing the ball for his dog.

"Do you have time to meet with the security guys this week?"

Sansa, bless her, didn't argue, just opened her phone and nodded. "I just sent you my updated calendar. You should let me sync them, so you know where I'm at."

Sandor wondered if this was a new level of intimacy that couples experienced in the digital age and realized he liked it.

"Uh, sure." He handed Sansa his phone, and with a few flicks, he saw her shit next to his on his phone.

He rattled off a few times to the chick on the phone, and they decided on Wednesday evening.

"Mr. Baratheon would like to meet with you at your home, Mr. Clegane. Please ensure Ms. Stark is there as well."

"Uh yeah, sure, we'll be here," Sandor said.

Before she ended the call, the professional voice slipped a bit, and the woman whispered, "It's so cool that we have Sansan as a client." Then she laughed and hung up.

Now, sitting on the plane, Sandor could chuckle. He'd later found out that the woman on the phone was the head of the company's daughter, Shireen.

Speaking of Ric, the rookie came and took a seat next to Sandor, excitement and nerves pumping off him.

"Super cool that we're on our first road trip," Ric said, tapping his foot nervously. Sandor eyed his suit, critically.

"If we get some time when we're in the capital, remind me to take you suit shopping."

Ric looked offended. "What's wrong with my suit?"

"There are suits, and then there are suits."

Ric just stared at him.

Sandor chuckled at his puzzled look. "Trust me, kid, when you wear your first bespoke suit you won't ever go back." Sandor didn’t need many fine things in his life, but he’d never wear an off the rack suit again.

Ric eyed Sandor and nodded, noting the cut and style fit the big man to perfection. "What's yours?"

"Brioni," Sandor said.

"Huh." Ric was quiet for a second then leaned in, glancing around. "So, I want in."

Sandor arched an eyebrow.

"In?"

Ric waved a hand. "You know. IN. When you go to Harry's."

Sandor said nothing, giving Ric a look.

"She's my sister."

"She asked Robb and me."

"Well, if Theon and Jon get to go, I should as well."

Sandor knew Sansa would kill him if anything happened to her baby brother, but he couldn't deny the kid wanted to get some back for Sansa. And they were close, Rickon and Sansa. No doubt, she had lamented her crappy boyfriend to Ric more than she ever had Robb. Sandor got where the kid was coming from.

"Alright."

Ric practically bounced in his seat, until Sandor leaned into his space. Ric’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t flinch. "But you keep your mouth shut to the Coach, and you listen to me. And no funny shit, rookie."

Ric grinned. "Promise."

Sandor shook his head as Ric all but bounced away and flicked his phone open, knowing that now that they were in the air, he'd have WIFI.

Sandor had finally broken down and got an Instagram account, but only so he could see what Sansa posted. She'd helped him set it up, and he grinned at her picture of her, Sweetie and her Mom hanging out at Winterfell. Her hashtags killed him.

#theHoundsladieshangingout

#rescuedogsarethebestdogs

#Sansanfirstpreseasongames

#gowolvesgo

Then he saw her text.

**Sansa**: It weird having people following me

Sandor grimaced, hating the reason why. It was the security people he’d hired to watch over her.

After their meeting with the police on Monday, his conversation with Tywin and then the phone call to Baratheon Security, Tuesday had brought even better news.

Ned had asked both Sansa and Sandor to come to the rink and when they arrived, and they'd learned that Ramsay had been traded to the team in the Iron Islands that played out of Pike. It wasn't precisely the south, but he was gone from the North.

Both had been happy, but still unsettled and Sandor was pleased when Sansa had said she still wanted to hear from the security people.

That had been reinforced when Sansa had arrived back at Sandor's house to find a bouquet of dead flowers. A couple of hours later and the cops had it all documented, but Sandor knew by the looks on their faces, the chances of linking such a stunt to Ramsay were slim to none.

Sandor hated that the fucker knew where he lived.

Sandor hoped to hell this Stannis Baratheon was every bit as good as Tywin had indicated. The mere thought of leaving Sansa with Ramsay loose chilled Sandor's blood.

Robb and Ned looked worried about the flower prank. Sandor told Ned about Baratheon Security, and Ned had clapped Sandor on the back and told him he was a good man.

Sansa had rushed around on Wednesday to clean his house (which was unnecessary since Sandor hired someone to do that), buy wine, and put out snacks. She was adorable, even if Sandor thought it was stupid. The guy was charging good money for this consult; he could buy his own damn snacks.

When the doorbell rang, Sweetie barked, and neither Sandor nor Sansa scolded her, happy her deep voice told whoever was on the other side of the door that a dog was here. Sandor's security system was basic, and he'd spent an hour last night already looking into an upgrade, but he wanted this expert's opinion before he made a purchase. After all, that’s what he was fucking paying for.

Sandor opened the door to a man that was tall, thin, but muscled and had a stern look on his face. His brown hair was receding, and he wore a dark Gucci suit with a black shirt.

Sandor had to admit, it was a good look, and the man looked like he'd been born to wear suits like that.

"Mr. Clegane, I am Stannis Baratheon." They shook hands, Sandor pleased when his was bigger.

Sandor grunted and stepped back, as Sansa beamed at him.

"We're so happy you could make time for us, Mr. Baratheon."

Stannis gazed at Sansa, a bit stunned by her, and Sandor’s grunt turned into a frown. She was wearing black leggings and a tank top and had her long hair in a messy bun, make-up free.

Sandor knew that men had this reaction to her, but still. He laid a hand on her back, and she gazed up at him, adoration in her face, clearly proclaiming to Stannis that she was taken.

Stannis cleared his throat. "Yes, I'm sorry. My daughter gave me the details. You are Sansa Stark, and you are Sandor Clegane."

"We are. Come in," Sandor said, closing the door, watching the man watch his girlfriend.

He glanced down and saw that Stannis didn't wear a wedding ring.

Sansa, of course, was oblivious to the man staring at her and was chirping happily, giving him a tour of the main floor as Sandor clomped after them, feeling like a slob in his work out shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. His tats were on full display, and he looked every inch a beast next to the elegant man that was standing in his kitchen.

It was clear that Stannis Baratheon had money. And style. And probably spoke three languages. And judging by the way he kept looking, discretely between the two of them, he was trying to figure out their relationship.

Sansa finally stopped talking and then blushed a bit, moving closer to Sandor and taking his hand. Sandor pulled her closer, feeling like a moron, but unable to help himself. Sansa was his, and this Baratheon prick could fuck off.

Stannis arched an eyebrow at the two of them.

"Why don’t we start from the beginning. Tell me what has you worried."

Sandor and Sansa glanced at one another, and then Sandor gave a rough outline of his encounters with Ramsay.

"And you, Ms. Stark? Have you ever had any contact with him outside of when you were with Mr. Clegane?"

Sansa shook her head.

"And you live here?"

Sansa blushed. "Well, no. I mean, not officially, but sort of, I guess."

Stannis hummed, and Sandor swore he felt the man's disapproval. It had always been this way; Sandor knew when someone had been born to money, and Stannis was not a man that grew up poor. He could feel the judgement rolling off this man. Sansa was a Stark and he was a Clegane. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out they were mismatched.

"My daughter, whom you spoke with on the phone, says that you have quite an online presence, Ms. Stark."

"I do."

"And something about Sansan." Stannis frowned, looking at the notes on his phone. "What is that?"

Sansa grinned, unashamed. "That's us, Mr. Baratheon." Sansa held up their joined hands and gazed adoringly at Sandor.

When Stannis said nothing, Sansa reached for her phone and opened her IG account and showed him her profile, along with the now four photos of them. She had added one a day, all Sandor pre-approved.

"And these numbers, here?" Stannis said, and Sandor smirked. Clearly, Mr. Bigshot was no more IG savvy than he was.

"Those are likes," Sansa chirped.

Sandor bit back a laugh when Stannis' eyes almost popped out of his head. "You have millions of likes, Ms. Stark."

"Yup and close to ten million followers. People love Sansan," she beamed, and Sandor pulled her closer.

"They love you, little bird."

Sansa laid a hand on his chest. "And you big guy. Trust me, did you see the reaction to your one tattoo? Those women better stay away from you, Sandor." Sansa had taken a picture of the three dogs when he’d been flexing and the comments had made even Sandor blush.

Sandor couldn't help himself as he leaned down to kiss her. She was out of her mind if she thought another woman held any type of appeal for him. Sansa was it.

A discreet cough had Sandor pulling back slightly, from her, but not far. Stannis Baratheon’s face was still mostly devoid of any emotion, although he seemed to be amused by them more than anything else.

"You play for the Wolves, Mr. Clegane?"

Sandor nodded. “Yeah was traded at the end of last season. Got here right before camp started, almost four weeks ago now.”

"Alight, show me your house," Stannis ordered, and they spent the next hour going through the whole thing, inside and out. Finally, they were back in the kitchen, and Sansa was making tea.

They'd resorted to first names when Sweetie dropped her ball at Stannis's feet when they had been outside, and the stoic man threw it for her.

"She's one of a kind, huh," he murmured. Thank fuck the man was talking about the dog.

It was clear that Stannis Baratheon was a dog man, which made him alright in Sandor's books. Sansa told him her story and Ramsay's potential involvement with the dog fighting and abuse. That had Stannis scowling.

Now seated around the vast island, Stannis looked at the two of them.

"I won't lie. I think that you have reason to be concerned. So far, you've done everything right. The news that this Ramsay fellow was traded is good, but as we all know, Pyke isn't far from Wintertown. With Sandor in and out of town, and the dog and Sansa being a draw for him, I doubt he'll give up. I'd recommend detail of two people, round the clock, for at least the next few weeks."

Sansa sucked in a breath and looked to Sandor. He knew his mouth was in a grim line. It wasn’t the money. Sandor couldn’t give a fuck about that. It was that this very professional, very competent man was agreeing that Ramsay was a threat.

"And my security system?"

Stannis snorted. "Child's play. We need to upgrade it."

"Is this really necessary?" Sansa asked, voice quiet.

Sandor felt like an ass. Maybe Ramsay was only fixated on her because of him. After all, he'd gone after him in the dressing room, and he'd adopted Sweetie. Maybe if he hadn’t been around Ramsay never would have looked at her.

"I'm sorry, little bird," Sandor mumbled, and she all but threw herself into his arms.

"Sandor stop. This isn't your fault. Could you imagine what might have happened if you weren't here? Ramsay was on the team, and I would have had no one to look out for me the way you are."

Sandor knew it was true. Ned and Robb were only taking this threat seriously because Sandor had pushed it. Without him, he shuddered to think how vulnerable Sansa might have been.

"Sansa, I think it best if you move in, full time until we've solved this matter for the both of you. It will be easier for my people if this is your primary residence,” Stannis said, glancing between the two of them.

"What about my Mom?"

Stannis gave her his first soft smile of the night. "Your father was in touch with us as well. We have a team looking out for her as well. Perhaps this is nothing. Maybe if he moves, he'll lose interest."

Sandor could see that Stannis didn't believe that, but Sansa latched onto that like it was a life raft.

"Can you give us a minute?" she asked Stannis, who excused himself to make some calls.

When they were alone, Sansa turned back to him, worry in her pretty blue eyes. "I'm sorry if me moving in here causes you any sort of …"

Sandor silenced her with a kiss. "Stop, baby. Remember what I said a few days ago? I don’t mind you being here, Sansa."

She frowned as she thought about it. "You sure you don't mind? Isn't it too fast?"

"Who are you worried about Sansa? Me or you?"

"Maybe a bit of both?" She was biting her lip, and Sandor knew he needed to get this right. He sat his ass down on a stool and pulled her into his arms so she could look directly at him.

"Ok, Explain it to me, little bird."

Her mind was fascinating to Sandor. It never shut off, and he'd discovered that his girlfriend was absolutely brilliant.

She let out a relieved breath that he wasn't overreacting, and the words rushed out.

"I don't want to mess this up. Us, I mean, by going too fast or skipping over important steps. But it feels right. You and me and being here. My family loves you, and I love Mama B, and I guess, if I just move in, then maybe we're just, super far into this relationship, but we've hardly dated, you know."

Sandor smiled at her and the rush of words. Sansa never did anything by half measures. "I do know. And it is fast. I'll be away all weekend, so that's something to consider."

Sansa thought about that. "True."

"And part of you being here is to help with Sweetie."

"Also true."

Her eyes had narrowed.

"And Mama B always said when I met the one, I'd know." Sandor winked at her.

Sansa threw her head back and laughed. "Sneaky."

Then she sobered. "WhataboutHarry?"

"Come again." Sandor gave her a look.

She rolled her eyes. "What about Harry?"

Sandor frowned. "What about Harry?"

"Aren't you worried you're just a rebound?"

He hadn't been, but now…

"Am I?" His voice was quiet.

"Gods, no. Sandor, I was done with him a year ago or more. Do you know how many times we slept together in the past twelve months?"

Sandor knew he didn't want to know, and he also knew she was going to tell him.

"Twice. And the last time was over nine months ago. I was done LONG before we broke up."

"So, what's the problem?"

Sansa sighed and tried to run a hand through her hair, which was still tied up on top of her head until she'd worked it loose. Sandor tugged her closer.

"Talk to me, Sansa."

"I feel so much for you, and I don't want to ruin it. You could break my heart, Sandor." It was the closest they'd come to saying what they were feeling; acknowledging what this was.

"You could break my heart as well, Sansa," he confessed back, knowing if she ever left him, he'd be more than brokenhearted; he'd be destroyed.

"So what if we promised we wouldn't. Break each other's hearts that is."

Sandor swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew that it was impossible to promise something like that, but he liked the sound of it too much to disagree with her.

"I'd like that."

"Good."

"Good."

"So that means I'm moving in, temporarily? And if you get sick of me, or it's too much, you have to pinky swear to tell me to move out. BEFORE we wreck this."

She had a determined look on her face and was holding her pinky finger out to him.

Sandor hooked his with hers. "Pinky swear, Sansa."

She beamed. "Good. That's an unbreakable promise, Sandor."

He didn't answer her with words, just moulded his lips to her, dragging her closer to him and carding his hands through her hair. Sansa Stark was moving in. She might say temporarily, but he'd wear her down, so she never wanted to leave.

Stannis finally wandered back into the kitchen, and the details were worked out. The two people he had assigned to them were his younger brother, Renly and a woman named Brienne Tarth.

"They will be here tomorrow. I've also made arrangements for an upgrade to your security system. The most important thing, and I can't stress this enough, is you can't hide things from us. Tell us where you are going, how long you plan on being there, any unusual changes or things that seem out of the ordinary. Let us do our jobs, and we'll keep you safe."

Since Stannis was sort of the reason that Sansa was moving in and would be safe when he was away this weekend, Sandor held out his hand and thanked the man.

"I often meet people at some of the worst or most stressful times of their lives. I hope for your sake, and we can solve this problem quickly. I'd love to catch a game when you're in town, down in Storm's End."

"You a hockey fan?" Sandor’s like of the man grew. He liked dogs and hockey. And Sansa, but Sandor thought anyone who didn’t like her was a fool.

Stannis finally grinned at Sandor. "Yeah. And especially a fan of the Hound. I'm sorry we didn't get you, but I won't lie and say I love that you don't play for the Lions anymore."

Sandor shook his head. "Tywin was the one who recommended you."

"He’s an arrogant prick, but he always did have good taste," Stannis replied, holding his hand out to shake Sandor's. "We'll keep her safe, Mr. Clegane."

Sandor choked up and gripped Stannis's hand, hard. Stannis was not a man to give his word lightly, and that night, in bed, with Sansa tucked in his arms, Sandor finally felt like he could breathe again. Her two new bodyguards would arrive the next day, and Sandor would be able to leave the North to play a few pre-season games knowing he'd done his best to protect this woman that meant everything to him.

Of course, the moment Sandor met Brienne and Renly, he'd immediately questioned Stannis's choices.

Renly seemed alright if a bit arrogant and lighthearted for Sandor's taste. He was in his late twenties.

But the real problem was the woman.

Ugliest fucking woman Sandor had ever seen, made worse by her awful haircut and the permanent scowl on her face. She'd turned her nose up at everything as she'd barged through his house like a fucking bull, snarking out all the deficiencies she'd found. She was a year younger than Sandor at thirty.

He'd barely been there a month, and when he'd bought it, he didn't know it needed to be Fort Fucking Knox to protect them from a psychopath that hated him and Sansa.

"For fuck sakes, Stannis said he'd install a new security system," Sandor had growled at her, and she turned her nose up at him.

"At the very least, Mr. Clegane, that might help keep someone at bay."

"B, relax," Renly said, shooting Sandor and Sansa a tight grin. "She takes this shit seriously."

"As should everyone. I can keep her safe," Brienne said, an arrogance to her tone that grated on Sandor's nerves.

It felt like she was implying that he couldn't. Sandor would do anything for Sansa, but fuck, he was a hockey player, not a trained fucking ninja.

"Baby, it's ok," Sansa said soothingly. She could see he was ready to lose it on Brienne.

"Perhaps you two could go through the house together, and then Renly could give us his report," Sansa suggested, tugging Sandor outside to play with Sweetie.

"Who the fuck doesn't like dogs, Sansa?" Sandor had snarled when they were outside. Brienne had curled her lip at the pitty. "Even stick up his ass Stannis liked her."

Sansa snickered. "Stick up his ass?"

Sandor rolled his eye. "He was checking you out the moment he entered our house."

One day and Sandor was using possessive pronouns. And yeah, he was big and dumb, but he knew what a fucking pronoun was. Mama B was a librarian and head of the grammar police. Sandor could write a perfect English essay if pressed. 

Sansa laughed. "Stannis was not checking me out, Sandor."

The glower Sandor gave her said he disagreed. “He fucking was,” Sandor muttered.

Sansa came and sat down beside him on the outside loveseat. "She's a bit rough around the edges, I'll give you that Sandor. But I do feel safer with the two of them around, and isn't that the point?"

Sandor tugged her onto his lap. "Don't be so smart, little bird."

Sansa giggled softly and rested her head against his chest. Sandor sighed. Her safety was the point. And if that meant putting up with Brienne, he'd do it.

Now, flying away from Sansa, Sandor did feel better with that hulking brute of a woman looking out for Sansa. And at least it wasn't Stannis. They might have shaken hands at the end, but there was no way the man hadn't been intrigued by Sansa. Not that Sandor could blame him. Sansa was amazing.

When they touched down in King's Landing, they boarded the bus to the hotel. They had back to back games, first one Saturday night, and then Sunday afternoon, so after a team dinner, they had 'free time' until their curfew.

Yeah, they were professions, but all teams did it, imposing the curfew. Some dumb fucks still needed it.

Jon, Robb, Ric and Sandor declined the invitation to go to a local karaoke bar where some of the guys were going to blow off steam. Theon had bailed on them for a bunny, but it was probably a good thing. Of all of his teammates, Sandor liked Theon the least. There was no telling what he might do.

The rest of them? They had a mission - get Sansa's shit back.

Ned stopped them with a single command as they were walking through the hotel lobby. "I don't want to have to bring Wyn in on this, boys."

Since #Sansan had gone so viral, Wyn had taken up a full-time spot with the team to manage their social media accounts. She was with them here in King’s Landing and standing next to Ned, scowling at the four of them.

Sandor thought Wyn was great; she was funny, smart, and she could dish it out with the best of them. Wyn had told him that she liked the change of pace, working for Sansa and the Wolves. "It was all scumbags before," she told Sandor. "You know, some dickhead politician who was banging someone he shouldn't be. This, well, this is fun."

Sandor also noticed how Jon couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of her. So far, Wyn seemed immune to his charms and claimed she was off dating anyone exclusively.

Sandor had grinned at that. He liked how Sansa's friends were making Robb and Jon work for it.

But right now, Wyn didn’t look amused or fun. She looked like she was ready to twist all their nuts off if they messed this up.

"We're just going to get San's stuff Dad," Robb said, and Ned shook his head.

"Four of you need to do that?"

Jon grinned ruefully. "Might have been a bit of overkill. What if I stay with you, love?" He gave Wyn a hopeful look. She rolled her eyes.

"You'll stay with me, so I don't have to release a media report stating why the Wolves players intentionally made male model Harry Harding feel inadequate." Ric and Robb snickered at that, while Sandor wisely kept his lips shut. His eyes were on Ned’s.

Jon grinned. "Alright, love, if that's how you want to play this. I don’t mind a woman who makes me work for it.”

"There is no 'this' Jon. No us. Just workmates. Colleagues."

Jon was still grinning as he tugged Wyn towards the hotel bar, leaving Robb, Ric and Sandor with Ned. Jon threw a wink towards them and Sandor had to give him credit. The man was confident.

"I trust you boys, to help Sansa out. But don't fuck this up." They all nodded to Ned, promising they wouldn’t.

Permission granted, they slipped into the Uber Robb had called, and he rattled off the address to Sansa's old apartment.

It was nothing like where Sandor had pictured her living. The building was pretentious as fuck, as was the guard at the door. He waved them through when Robb showed them Sansa’s keys and then he pressed the P in the elevator.

Of course, she was in the penthouse, and Sandor shuffled a bit uncomfortably as they zoomed to the top.

"She hated it here, Sandor," Robb said as if he knew what was going through his mind. "Honestly, don't let anything Harry says fuck with your head. She was done with him a long time ago."

Sandor grunted and unclenched his fist. His phone dinged.

**Sansa**: Hey, how was dinner? What are you up to? Want to Facetime? I may or may not be in our bed. 😉😘

Sandor gave a small smile and settled. Sansa was his. She didn't need him to act like some overgrown jackass and fuck this up. Harry might be a loser, but he could cause real damage if Sandor went in there like a raging bull.

"We go in, get her shit and leave," he told Robb and Ric, who nodded.

**Sandor**: Just at your old place. Be done in 30. Talk then.

**Sansa**: I trust you, Sandor, to keep Robb under control. He's a giant man-child sometimes.

**Sandor**: I got it, LB.

Robb knocked on the door, and Harry cracked it open, keeping the security chain on. He knew they were coming so this was just Harry playing games.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Sansa's stuff."

"Not her fucking place anymore, is it?"

"Her name is on the lease until the end of the month, and she paid this month's rent. So really, it is."

Harry sneered.

"We can call the fucking cops. Explain what the fuck you're doing here, not letting us in,” Sandor said, towering over the Stark brothers.

"Fucking hells, she sent her dog after me? That bitch," Harry snarled, and the chain came loose. He stepped back, eyeing them warily, holding up his phone. "Just so you know, I'm recording everything."

Sandor nodded to Ric, who did the same, taking out his phone and setting it to video.

Instead of looking at Harry, Sandor glanced down at his phone and saw the list that Sansa had given him. It was mostly some pictures, a pan she liked a lot, a plant (he had no idea what Robb's plan for that was), and some clothes.

Robb shoved a written list at Harry, who was once again, sneering. Sandor knew he was no prize, but what the hell Sansa saw in this little prick was beyond Sandor.

"I'm not your servant. Get her shit yourself."

Sandor wanted to punch Harry just because he was a rude, insolent little shit. But he'd promised Sansa he'd keep this PG. So instead, he leaned in and growled in Harry's face.

"Help us, or it gets hard for you."

Sandor would let Harry make of that what he wanted.

Harry's eyes popped wide, and even though he was 6'2, Sandor had four inches on him and over a hundred pounds. It was no contest. Harry had just turned twenty-five. 

"God, you are a beast. I should have known that she'd go for someone like you. She's from the North, after all. All the men up there are just like you. She had nothing before she met me; hardly knew her Dolce from her Gucci."

Sandor's temper was close to fraying when his phone started to ring. It was Sansa's tone, so he glanced down and opened the Facetime call.

"Hi baby," she gushed, chirping happily, but Sandor could see she was annoyed. He hoped to God it wasn't at him. "Can I speak to Harry?"

Sandor nodded and turned the phone, watching as Harry paled as he saw her face.

"Hi, Harry. I wonder if you're helping my brothers and my boyfriend, because I'm pretty sure that you're living, rent-free, in my apartment until the end of the month. I'd hate to call the police to report that you've been squatting and gosh, it would be awful if the press were to find out just how broke you were, and that you lived off me for the past couple of years."

Harry swallowed hard. "They just got here, San."

She smiled and nodded. "Oh, that's so great. I'll just stay on the phone, so I can help you all out in getting my things and then they can be on their way. Sandor?"

Sandor turned the phone back to see her. He grinned at her. She was something else.

"Hey, baby. Ok. So most of the stuff should be in the main room and the bedroom," she started to say, walking him through where to find it.

Robb and Ric were grinning as Harry looked like he'd swallowed something sour, as Robb started putting Sansa's stuff in the bag they brought.

When they got to the bedroom, Sandor wanted to rage, imagining them there together, and something must have shown on his face.

"Sandor, we've been over for a long, long time. He hardly even slept there."

Sandor grunted and then hurried to grab her stuff.

"Uhmmm, not that. That's not mine," Sansa said when Sandor reached for a top, which meant that Harry had already moved on.

"You ok?" Sandor asked. Despite how much he hated being in this apartment, he didn't want Sansa to be hurt.

She waved a hand. "It's unsurprising really, and who I am to judge. I'm sprawled out in your bed with half my shit in your closet, Sandor. A part of me hopes he moves on quickly as well."

"He's an idiot, to lose a woman like you," Sandor muttered.

"Awww, that's so sweet, baby."

Sandor finished quickly and then met Robb and Ric at the entrance of the penthouse. Sansa was still on the phone as her brothers hauled her stuff to the elevator. Sandor was almost out the door when Harry's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"She's a frigid bitch, you know."

Sandor sucked in a deep breath and turned.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Harry, standing by the door, shuffled his feet, then tilted his chin.

"She's frigid. In bed. She was a virgin when I met her and awful in the sack. I'd been messing around on her since we were dating in the Riverlands. She was too naïve to even pick up on it. What chick thinks a dude only wants to have sex once a month?"

Sandor looked down to see Sansa's pale face, shame and shock and hurt all present. They’d started dating when they were twenty-one and though Sandor knew that most first loves didn’t work, Harry was making this extra bad. 

"Sorry, little bird. Need to deal with something first."

Sandor handed his phone to Ric, who nodded and then stalked back to Harry. He tried to slam the door, but Sandor's huge foot was there as he pushed it open, and Harry scrambled back, holding up his hands and his phone.

"Fucking touch me, and I'll ruin you," Harry was screeching, and Sandor knew it was true.

He needed the think.

He needed to be smart.

He glanced back at Ric, who was still filming. Ric grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

Sandor grabbed Harry by the back of his neck and squeezed.

"Repeat after me," Sandor said in a low, dark voice into Harry's ear.

Harry squeaked. Sandor squeezed harder.

"Repeat. After. Me."

Harry nodded. Sandor shot Ric a look, who nodded.

"I, Harry Harding, am a limp-dicked fuckwad that can't please a woman."

Harry's eyes widened. Sandor squeezed his neck harder. When he finally spoke, he choked out the words.

"I was unable to keep Sansa Stark, the most amazing woman in Westeros happy, and I will forever be ashamed that my small dick couldn’t please her."

Harry scowled but repeated the sentence.

"I wish to god I had the balls to man up and leave her years ago, but instead, I sponged off her, using her to further my pathetic career. My career, which is going nowhere, as no one wants to work with me."

Harry was shaking with fury but said the words.

"I will never be worthy of breathing the same air as Sansa, let alone speaking to her or even dating her. I haven't been able to get a hard-on in months, and I don't blame her for searching for someone new, someone better than me. Someone with a bigger dick.”

Harry's eyes promised retaliation and murder. Sandor couldn't care less. Robb and Ric were laughing so hard they were crying.

"I am sorry, Sansa, for any pain or humiliation I caused you, and I am in treatment for my limp dick syndrome."

When the last line had been choked out, Ric grinned as he spliced it together, so it looked like Harry had issued the 'apology' all on his own.

"Play it back," Sandor growled, and Harrys' voice filled the apartment. His eyes promised retribution, but Sandor didn’t care. As long as he had the video, Harry would behave.

"Now, apologize to Sansa and know that the moment you step out of line, I'll make sure everyone in Westeros sees that video."

Ric held Sandor's phone up. Sansa was no longer pale; she was shaking in laughter.

"Oh gods, Harry, you ass. You deserved that."

"This is blackmail!"

Sansa's eyes narrowed. "I wonder what my ten million followers would think of your apology?"

Harry paled. "Sorry."

"We're done, Harry. Forget me, forget Sandor. Forget everything."

Harry snarled at her.

"Oh, and just for the record, your dick is ugly. Sandor's dick is a work of art. I could spend all day worshiping it. Poems should be written about it. Songs even.”

Sandor tried not to blush, but damn if that didn't feel good.

Sandor, Robb and Ric shut the door on the man to hear Harry cursing and glass breaking. Sandor grabbed his phone back and looked at Sansa.

"We alright, little bird?"

"We're great. Call me when you get back to the hotel." She made a kissy noise and hung up.

There was silence in the elevator.

"Dude, I like how much my sister likes you, but I seriously didn't need the visuals about your dick," Robb said.

Sandor shrugged. "Can't help it. It's a good one."

Then the big man walked out of the elevator, carrying a bag full of Sansa's hit, and a happy grin on his face, whistling. He had his girlfriend’s stuff back and two hockey games to kick ass. Life was good for Sandor Clegane.

* * *

Two days later, Sandor was sitting, half-stripped down and out of his gear in the visitors' dressing room. Sandor couldn’t help but let loose he grin that had been threatening to break out.

They fucking destroy the Capitals. Even for a pre-season game, it was a blood bath — 6-2 in the first game and 5-0 in the second.

Sandor grinned at his teammates as they celebrated in the dressing room, grabbing one another, joking, trading insults. Sure, it was just preseason, and yeah, not all the regulars played a lot, but Sandor could feel it.

Everyone could feel it.

This team was something special.

They were missing Ric, and Grenn wasn't quite up to speed, but somehow, Sandor knew, this team was fucking magic.

Sandor glanced down at his phone, seeing Sansa's name pop up.

**Sansa**: OMG, my boyfriend is a BADASS! Great game, baby. Four goals already!!!!! 🤩🙌 🏒

Sandor fucking grinned. He was badass. He was a defenseman, and he was leading the team in points, two games in.

**Sandor**: Thanks LB. We're leaving in an hour. You home?

**Sansa**: Spent the afternoon at WF with my Mom. Headed back to our house in a few.

_Fuck_, Sandor thought. He liked the sound of that. _Our house_.

Where he would be in a couple of hours. He’d never had a woman to come home to, after road trips. Never had anything like what he had with Sansa.

She was proud of him for how he dealt with Harry. Sandor had known it was a fine line, but he'd somehow navigated it. When they’d showed everyone the video, even Ned got a kick out of it, and Wyn rolled her eyes. Once they saw the whole thing, they understood. Harry's comments about Sansa had been awful, and Sandor wasn't the type of man to let that shit go.

**Sandor**: Any problems with Ramsay?

**Sansa**: Nope. And my mom loves Renly.

Sandor snorted. Renly and his boyfriend Loras had become BFF's with Sansa over the weekend. Sandor was sure Mama B would love Renly as well. Loras was twenty-seven and a fashion diva! 

**Sansa**: Do you want dinner when you get home?🍴

Something warm spread in Sandor's chest at that question. Sansa couldn't cook worth shit, but he knew if he said yes, she'd have something ready for him.

**Sansa**: Mordane says she's sending me home with leftovers. You wouldn't know it, but she's a huge Wolves fan. She says you need to eat. 🥘

Sandor was glad he wasn't on the phone with her because he'd probably be a blubbery mess of emotion. Why did these people care about him? Not just Sansa, but her family and friends. All of them. His teammates even.

Sandor's phone buzzed again, and he looked down.

**Tywin**: Good game, Clegane. Perhaps I was premature in thinking you had peaked.

Sandor didn't know what game the Old Lion was playing, but there was no way in hell he'd ever play for the Lions again. Sandor had his agent put a no-trade clause into this latest contract, and he'd fucking quit hockey before he played for anyone but the Wolves.

His life, his fucking woman, was in the North where he would be. If they didn't want him? Well, fuck that. Sandor would retire before he left the North.

**Sandor** (to Tywin): Guess you were

**Sandor** (to Sansa): That's an awesome LB. Gotta shower. See you in a couple of hours.

**Sansa**: Hurry home, baby! We miss you!!!!! 💋 💕

She attached a picture of her and Sweetie, and Sandor smiled at the sheer rightness of seeing his girls.

He was headed home.

To the North.

To Sansa.

To everything, he'd ever fucking wanted.

And it was the best feeling in the entire world.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor comes home, more Sansan and another pre-season game

* * *

_ Sansa _

Sansa was sitting in the kitchen on her laptop, a glass of wine and reviewing the latest ads from Yohn when she heard the garage door open. She hadn't been 'waiting' for Sandor precisely, but she had been checking the clock every five minutes to see if he was any closer to being home.

Sansa had tried not to annoy him too much this weekend when he'd been away, knowing that he needed to focus on the games. The entire situation with Harry had been maddening. In the space of a single phone call, she'd been annoyed, hurt, embarrassed and then vindicated. Who knew that Sandor could be so deliciously devious? That blackmail apology would keep Harry in line for a long time.

Sansa tried to decide if she was upset with seeing another woman's top in Harry's bedroom. She knew it made her a hypocrite to even think like that since she was all but moved in with Sandor, but still, she believed in being honest with herself at the very least.

The top and what it represented didn't bother her in the least. But Harry's comments at the end did.

Was she frigid? Was she too inexperienced to keep a man happy?

There was a part of Sansa that had always known that Harry needed her. Perhaps not sexually, but emotionally and financially. In many ways, he had been dependent upon her, which she knew was not a healthy relationship, but it had helped her understand her place with him. She’d never really worried and while it was awful to hear that he’d cheated on her, it was more embarrassing than hurtful.

But a man like Sandor was a different ball game. Was Sansa enough to keep a man like him happy?

Sure, his scar wasn't great, but Sansa hardly noticed it anymore. The man was built, the best in the entire hockey league and had a drool-worthy sex appeal. Sansa hadn't missed the many, many, MANY comments on her IG account of women praising him. Not just praising him but propositioning him.

Sandor was sex on a stick, a catch, and a man that any woman would love to date. The man was kind, considerate and a could bench press a Buick.

Sansa had spent the weekend wondering if she was ready to take their relationship to the next level because of Harry’s comment.

Perhaps Sandor was annoyed that they hadn't slept together yet. Surely any other healthy twenty-four-year-old woman with a man like him in her life would have already done the deed.

But Sansa wasn't quite ready for sex. She was enjoying getting to know him. Their entire relationship was kind of backwards, with the 'dating' while living together, but Sandor didn't seem to mind. And she loved all the oral sex; she was getting to know what she liked and what she didn’t and there hadn’t been any pressure to do more. Until Harry.

So she'd taken a long bath, shaved all the critical parts, put lotion on her legs and arms, spritzed some sultry perfume and donned a sexy black lingerie set, to welcome her man back to Wintertown. The last thing Sansa wanted was to lose her guy because she was going too slow in bed with him.

Sweetie heard the garage door the same time Sansa did, and was by her side, wiggling her entire body as Sansa stood in the kitchen waiting for Sandor to enter.

"Daddy's home, baby," Sansa whispered to the dog and warmed at that thought. Home. Sandor was home. Sansa didn’t know who was more excited, her or the dog. 

Then the door opened, and he was there, as big as ever and the best thing she'd seen in two and a half days.

_Gods, he was sexy in his suit_, Sansa thought, wondering if she was drooling.

She smiled.

He dropped his bag and smirked at her.

Sansa didn't even know who moved first, but she was in his strong arms, and he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back as the dog circled them, barking happily and wagging her tail.

It was so silly since he'd hardly been gone any time at all, but she had missed him so much.

She moaned as he picked her up easily, cradling her to his big body. Sansa wound her long legs around him. She was wearing a little tank top and shorts, and Sandor's hands were on her ass as he walked them through the house.

"Need you, little bird," he murmured, and she hummed her agreement.

“Need you as well, big guy.”

Somehow, and Sansa had no idea how, Sandor got them up the stairs in record time and into their bedroom. She had moved more stuff in here over the past few days, unable to stop herself. She'd never been anywhere but Winterfell that felt so much like home.

Sandor didn't pay any attention to all her stuff or didn't care as he put her on their bed. He braced himself over her as he drank her in. His eyes were so expressive, and Sansa loved how intense he was. She reached up and cupped his face.

“Hi baby,” she whispered.

"Fucking hells, I’ve missed you," he said and leaned down to kiss her again, this time slowly, making her moan and pant as Sansa felt her arousal build. The need was so intense, so great, she felt like she was drowning in it.

“Now, Sandor, I need you,” Sansa demanded.

Sansa tore at his clothes, almost desperate to get them naked, to get on with this.

She could do this, give this to him. He'd been so patient, so giving with her, that surely it would be fine if they had sex tonight.

Sansa arched up to kiss him again, trying to drag him down to her.

Sandor reared back, eyes narrowed. "What's going on in that brain of yours, little bird?"

Sansa blushed but said, "I want you, Sandor."

He nodded. "Yeah, and I want you as well. But something seems off. This seems almost desperate, Sansa.”

Sansa felt her face get redder, and she scrambled back in the bed, feeling like a fool. Of course, he would see right through her.

"Babe talk to me," Sandor said, voice gentle. Sandor shrugged out of his suit jacket, letting it drop on the floor.

Sansa finally looked at him and saw that he was worried. Sansa bit her lip, wondering how she could explain herself.

"It was what that fucker Harry said, wasn't it?" Sandor growled.

Sansa nodded and then felt the tears come. She hated how emotional she was being. She was messing everything up. She'd worn sexy underwear to welcome him home, been so freaking excited to see him, had desperately wanted to kiss him and spend time with him. Now she was crying, and Sandor looked ready to murder someone; someone named Harry.

He heaved out a sigh, kicked off his expensive shoes and crawled onto the bed in his fancy suit, sitting against the headboard. Sandor loosened his tie and opened his arms and Sansa all but threw herself into them, still sniffling. Sandor stroked her back, and Sansa felt some of the tension drain out of her.

"Sansa, Harry is a fucking asshole. I hate that he was your first because I think he did some serious damage to you understanding how normal guys act in a relationship."

Sansa finally glanced up and him, and saw his jaw was tight with fury, but his hands were gentle. For such a big, powerful man, he was always so gentle with her.

"Ok."

Sandor looked directly into her eyes. "I told you before Sansa - sex isn't something you have to give out. It's not expected, it shouldn't be demanded, and it is never something I want you to feel you 'have' to do."

"But Harry said he cheated on me because we only had sex once a month."

"Harry is a fucker who I want to punch in the face."

Sansa giggled a bit. Harry was a complete ass, that much was more than apparent.

Then she frowned. "So, you don't want to have sex?"

Sandor rumbled out a laugh. "Sansa, of course, I want to have sex with you. I can also wait for as long as you need to be ready."

"So tonight…"

Sandor kissed her again until she was breathless. "Tonight I was looking forward to coming home and making you come, with my hands, and my tongue, and my fingers. And after I made you scream my name once, I was going to do it all over again."

Sansa blushed and felt the white-hot lust rush through her body. “Oh my god, I'd love that, Sandor. I think I'm almost…"

Sandor shut her up with another kiss. And another. And another, until Sansa was lost in him, clutching at his suit, trying to get him naked.

"Can we play?"

Sandor barked out a yes and yanked her tank top off, grey eyes darkening to a stormy sky colour as he drank her in.

"Fucking gorgeous," he said, cupping her lace-covered breasts.

"You as well big guy," Sansa said with a breathless moan, as Sandor's fingers rolled her nipples between them, pinching and making them hard little points.

Sandor seemed so focused on her, so Sansa was left tugging at him, loving the contrast of the proper white shirt and the ink on his body as she pushed it down his arms. She missed these arms around her and was just about to press her lips to tattooed 8 on his bicep when his mouth tugged her nipple into his mouth.

“Oh god, yes, Sandor.”

With a deft move, her bra was gone and then it was flesh on flesh as he sucked at her, rolling her small breasts in his mouth as Sansa arched her back to give him better access.

"Mine, Sansa," Sandor growled, his eyes meeting hers. 

"Yours, Sandor."

With a nod, he slid down her body, pressing her gently to the bed as he pulled down her shorts, taking her lacy thong with him. He smirked at her when she complained she'd picked her underwear out just for him, and then blushed when he sniffed her. He’d settled his big body over hers, his bearded mouth hovering right above her core.

"Best fucking thing in the world," he said, his intense gaze levelled on her most private parts. Sansa didn’t even feel embarrassed at his blatant perusal of her. She just felt cherished and wanted.

“More, Sandor. I need more.”

He growled and nodded and then Sandor swiped his tongue up through her folds, and Sansa pressed herself shamelessly against his mouth. She'd more than return the favour, but now, her man was back, and this was everything. Sansa spread her legs open, giving him better access, which Sandor took full advantage of. He put his big hands on her thighs, keeping her in a perfect position for him to feast on her. Which he did, making Sansa did scream his name multiple times.

“Gods, I love what you taste like,” he growled, his face shiny with her spendings as Sansa was panting on the bed.

The man seemed obsessed with getting her off again and again, and finally, whimpering and almost breathless, she pushed him down and told him to strip so that she could make him feel as good as she did.

There was a power taking him in her mouth, Sansa had discovered, to make him moan and pant and grunt out her name. He often called out how hot she was, how much he loved what she was doing, how he loved seeing his dick in her mouth. Sansa loved his dirty talk.

The freedom and acceptance that she had found this past week with Sandor Clegane was nothing short of astonishing, and when she felt him expand and then empty into her mouth, Sansa knew she had to get over her hang-ups from Harry.

This man beneath her was singing her praises, and she knew he loved what they did to each other. Sex would come when they were ready, and Sansa loved how Sandor didn’t put any pressure on her.

Finally spent, Sandor tugged her up to him, cradling her in his arms as he kissed her deeply, and another wave of emotion washed over Sansa.

"I'm glad you're home," she said, playing with his chest hair as he ran his hands through her long blond locks. She was seriously considering dying back to her natural red. The blond was a lot of work and upkeep, and she missed her more natural look.

"I'm glad to be home as well."

"So, the games went well?"

Sansa loved how excited he got when he spoke about hockey and the team. Finally, he dragged them to the shower.

"Let's get clean and eat, and we can watch some highlights."

To Sansa, it sounded like a perfect night.

Sandor, Sweetie, food, hockey and orgasms.

Sansa giggled as he put her over his shoulder. He seemed to get such a kick out of carrying her around, and the view of his ass this way was spectacular, so who was she to complain. There was nothing quite like a hot hockey player’s ass, and Sandor’s was one of the finest in the game, Sansa was sure. Tight, muscular and rounded in all the right places. She reached down to cup it and her slapped her butt, making her giggle.

Of course, in the shower, Sandor had deemed her sufficiently recovered from her previous weakened blissed-out state and dropped to his knees to worship her again. “Spread them, Sansa.” She did so eagerly.

"Fucking love this pussy, baby," he said, as she gripped his hair and hung on for dear life. Sansa could hardly imagine how they would survive when they did have sex because she hadn't been lying to Harry.

Sandor's dick was gorgeous if that was a thing and if his oral talents were anything to go by, the man knew how to please a woman in bed.

"Sandor please," she said. He was tormenting her on purpose, drawing her up to the edge and then not letting her fall over.

He grunted, reduced to only sounds as he worked her over, sinking two fingers deep inside. "You're tight, Sansa. Need to get you prepared so when you're ready, you can take me."

Sansa moaned again, wondering if that was a thing.

Could a penis not fit?

She giggled, and Sandor glanced up at her. Still laughing, she asked that very question.

He stilled and nodded. "I mean, it can fit, but it can also be painful. And the last thing I'd ever want to do is cause you pain, little bird."

Sansa cupped his face, rubbing gently over the scarred tissue. She hardly noticed it, anymore. "No, Sandor, neither one of us would like that."

He nodded again and then gave a small smirk. "Of course, a little pain isn't always a bad thing." His big hand came around and smack her butt, shoving her closer to his open mouth. The combination, soft and hard, had Sansa shivering in delight, and soon she was thrusting her hips against his mouth, begging him to make her come.

Thank gods for his strength, because when she finally erupted, Sansa felt her legs all but collapse. She was grateful that he was there to gather her in his arms. They washed each other and then Sansa pulled on her favourite Wolves t-shirt of his and a pair of his boxers. At his questioning glance, she shrugged.

"What? I wore them when you were away."

Sandor had her in his arms again, kissing her sweetly now. "Fuck, Sansa. You don't know what it does to see you wear my stuff."

"Yeah?" She was grinning against his lips.

"Yeah." Sandor paused, still with her in his arms. He cupped her face in his big hands. "Would you wear my jersey?" he asked gruffly, and perhaps a bit shyly.

Sansa felt the tears come and she nodded, pressing her lips to his. "Of course. I'd love to."

Both of them knew that in hockey culture, it was a big deal. Sansa would be in the stands, this time with the other WAGs of the Wolves players, with Sandor's name on her back. There would be no mistaking, to anyone, if there were any lingering doubts, that she was with him.

They laughed as Sweetie gave them an accusatory glance when they exited their bedroom hand in hand. Sandor picked her up, and the dog instantly forgave him, licking his face, until he put her down and she raced downstairs to find her toy for a game of tug.

Sansa wandered to the kitchen, to warm up some food just as Renly slipped inside.

"Are you joining us?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Yeah, sure. If you guys don't mind."

"We don't," Sansa said, humming softly as she puttered in Sandor's kitchen. She loved how Mordane had stocked her up with a bunch of food for Sandor, but she needed to learn to make the basics. What type of wife and Mom couldn't even make eggs? Or grilled cheese sandwiches? Or soup?

Then Sansa stilled, the dish from Mordane in her hands and let that thought roll around in her head. She heard Renly laughing with Sandor, talking about hockey, as Sweetie barked for them to keep playing with her. Sandor had sports highlights on the TV, and Sansa had her favourite pop station on in the kitchen.

Her keys were on the counter by his, her shoes tangled at the back entrance beside his.

And suddenly, she could see with perfect clarity, dark hair children running through the house. The image of them waiting for their Dad when he came home from a road trip lodged itself in her brain. Sandor would be the best Dad and Sansa had always wanted a big family.

_This is insane_, Sansa thought. _No one fell for someone this fast, did they?_

A chime on Sansa's phone had her glancing down to see a text from her grandma

**Mini**: We will be there on Thursday. I have been informed there are some hockey games this weekend. I'm assuming there will be time to meet your young man?

Sansa grinned

**Sansa**: Of course! Would you like to do lunch with Mom and me? I can set something up for Friday.

**Mini**: Sounds, lovely dear. I adored your last video — very helpful tips on a proper foundation for fall.

**Sansa**: Thanks! Can I ask you a question?

**Mini**: Of course.

**Sansa**: How long was Mom dating Dad before she knew that he was 'the one?'

Sansa's phone rang, and she answered the call. Her grandmother's gentle laugh came through.

"Gone and fallen for him, have you?"

Sansa glanced around and saw Sandor and Renly still in the great room.

"Maybe. I think so. I don't know."

Another soft chuckled. "Oh my dear, I am looking forward to meeting him and getting to know this man who has you so spun around. A word of advice, my girl. Enjoy the fall!"

Sansa was still smiling at her grandma's words. Enjoy the fall.

Sansa decided she would as she called the guys into the kitchen for a later dinner. There was no use in trying to stop herself, Sansa thought, as she already was.

Sansa loved watching as Sandor readily accepted Renly into their little family. He was at ease with the man, and they discovered they both loved sports and motorcycles, so they'd bonded. They also like to get little digs in about Stannis, which, while funny, were kind of unfair since Stannis wasn't here to defend himself.

Still, Sansa knew she was a lucky lady, and that night, back being the little spoon, she sighed happily.

Maybe they were crazy. Maybe they'd never last. Maybe this would all be over in a few months, and she'd be broken-hearted and devastated. But until that time, Sansa wasn't going to hold back. She was going to take Grandma Mini's advice and throw herself entirely into her relationship with Sandor. This man deserved to be loved without reservations or limitations and too few had ever given that to him in this lifetime.

Sansa knew if she wanted a great love like her parents, she had to be willing to take the chance and slipped into sleep, to dream of Sansan babies and a beautiful life with this man who held her safely in his arms.

_ Sandor  _

Sandor had been home for two days now, and things with him and Sansa were better than ever. He wanted to kill Harry when she'd tried to push herself for sex when she wasn't ready. Sandor knew she wasn't there yet, and that was fine by him. He wasn't a kid that couldn't control himself around his woman. Thankfully he'd gotten her head on straight, and now they were back to seeing who could make the other come most creatively, without actually fucking.

Sandor had never had so much fun in his entire life with a woman. He knew Sansa in a way he'd never known anyone else; spent hours kissing her body, touching her, making her moan, making her scream. It was exciting in a way he would never have imagined, and he knew she loved it as well.

She'd taken to wearing his shirts and boxers around the house, which drove him mad. And had led to him making her come in some very interesting places around the house.

He'd been in the midst of eating her out on their kitchen table this morning when Brienne had stomped inside, and Sansa had blushed so red Sandor had been afraid her face would stay that way.

"Don't you fucking knock?" Sandor growled at the woman who had the grace to at least look away while Sansa pulled up his boxer shorts that she was wearing. They'd been distracted when they'd come down to make coffee.

"There were some odd footprints around the perimeter of your property, Mr. Clegane. I believe that takes precedence over whatever it was you were doing."

Brienne looked down his nose at them.

Sandor sobered immediately and pulled Sansa into his arms. "Did you call the cops?"

Brienne nodded. "They will come and take a look and Stannis will be here tomorrow to oversee the installation of the new security system. Once that is in place, I believe he feels you can go down to only one of us."

Sandor knew it was coming. He got along with Renly well, but the man was part owner of Baratheon Security, and he and Loras had a life down in Storm's End.

Plus, with Ramsay officially in Pyke, everyone figured he wasn't a day to day threat. It was silly to have two bodyguards on Sansa at all times. Sandor just hated that it was Brienne staying and not Renly and had pouted all last night.

"She's not that bad," Sansa had finally said, exasperation in her voice. Somehow, they seemed to get along, although how anyone could find Brienne likeable was beyond Sandor’s knowledge. The woman seemed to make it her mission to butt into their lives as much as possible. 

Sandor had overheard her talking about how she hated hockey and didn't understand it and thought it all looked very stupid.

That had been the last straw for him, and he'd raged for an hour in their bedroom while Sansa smiled indulgently at him. It was wild how his temper didn't seem to faze her.

After the cops had decided that the footprints were nothing more than kids in the neighbourhood running through the yard, Sandor had taken off to the rink, knowing Sansa was meeting him there later.

Sandor was sitting on the bench, gulping in air as they had a break between their drills. Ned was working them hard in anticipation of their next pre-season game in King’s Landing tomorrow night.

Ric was back, and Grenn was finally fucking getting the hang of their systems, and everyone was jacked to play the Lions – and no one more than Sandor. He wanted to fucking crush his old team.

A smack from Tormund had him scowling at the bearded wonder.

"What the fuck is your problem?"

"Who is that?"

Sandor glanced up to see Sansa sitting beside Sam. She noticed him and gave a smile and a little wave. Sandor nodded his head. "Sansa, you dumb cunt," Sandor muttered at Tormund.

The Wildling rolled his eyes. "Not her. HER!"

Sandor spat out his Gatorade when he saw that Tormund was pointing at Brienne, who was standing like a hulking mass a few feet away from Sansa. Sandor was still pissed she'd interrupted his breakfast of Sansa this morning.

"Her bodyguard."

"She's magnificent," Tormund breathed out.

Both Bronn and Sandor gave him a funny look. The woman was ugly, mean and had a shitty attitude. Sandor had no idea how Sansa put up with her, but she was at least somewhat competent at her job, which was something. Plus, Sandor had no doubts she’d die to protect Sansa. She had that goody-goody personality that meant when she vowed to do something, she stuck with it.

"The blond?" Bronn asked, snorting. Things were moving along nicely between him and Jeyne, although he was still being frozen out of her bed as well. So far, Sansa and her friends were holding all the cards when it came to sex with Wolves players. Sandor hoped to fuck it didn’t mess with their game.

"Look at her. Our children would be huge," Tormund said in awe. Then he turned to Sandor, tearing his eyes away from Sansa and Brienne. "Dog, you have to introduce me."

Sandor rolled his eyes, but Tormund followed him on the ice, barking at him relentlessly.

"If I say yes, will you shut your fucking trap?"

Tormund nodded, smiling.

Sandor sighed. "Fine. After practice."

Tormund thanked him and then went to save every puck they shot at him. The man was insane, Sandor decided.

Sansa and Brienne were waiting in the hallway outside the dressing room when Sandor came out with Tormund hot on his heels.

"Hi baby," Sansa said, lighting up when she saw him. Every time and it still made Sandor feel amazing that someone actually liked him that much.

Sandor had got their equipment people working on an official jersey for her, although it wasn't ready yet. Maybe this weekend with their last two pre-season games against Storm's End.

"Hi, little bird."

Sandor kissed Sansa and glowered at Brienne. He could feel Tormund eyeing the woman up.

Rolling his eyes, he coughed. "Brienne, this is Tormund, our goalie. Tormund, Brienne."

Sansa shot Sandor a questioning look. He just shrugged his shoulders and kissed her again, leaving the Wildling to his own devices.

"I'll take her home, Brienne."

Brienne started to sputter, but Sandor had Sansa down the hallway. When he glanced back, Tormund was openly flirting with her and Brienne looked like she'd stepped in dog shit.

Sandor chuckled. The man would have his work cut out for him with that one, for sure.

As for him and Sansa, they weren't quite going home yet. He had one more stop to make. On their road trip, Robb had informed him that he needed a truck over breakfast one morning.

"Why?"

Robb laughed. "Fuck dude, you should see how much snow we get. Trust me. You need a truck."

Sandor didn't want a truck, but he would drive an SUV. He'd found a matte black g63 AMG that suited him just fine. The thing looked like a fucking tank and was badass, just like his Aston. The dealership had brought one in for him, and now he wanted to take Sansa for a test drive.

She laughed when he pulled into the Mercedes dealership, rolling her eyes when they fawned over him. Up in the North, hockey players were treated like royalty.

Her eyes bugged out at what he'd chosen, but for once, Sandor didn't feel squished when he sat in the driver’s seat, and his eyes lit up.

"Come on, babe, let's take it for a spin."

Sandor already knew he was buying it; he just wanted to have some fun.

"Rickon is going to be so jealous."

Sandor grinned. "Let's go show him."

They cruised to Winterfell, Sandor fiddling with the vehicle while Sansa checked her social media page and then asked about Tormund.

Sandor shrugged. "Fuck if I know what he sees in that woman. But to each their own."

When they got to Winterfell, Sandor texted Ric, who came running outside, his eyes bugging out.

"Oh man, this is so sweet!"

Sansa kissed Sandor and slipped out. "I think you took the wrong Stark for a test drive, babe. I'll see you at home. I'm going to check on my Mom."

Unfazed, Sandor waved at her and then told Ric to hop in. It was nuts how Sansa didn’t seem to care about his money. Every other woman he’d been with had used him for some reason; fame, wealth, his dick. But not Sansa. Sandor put the window down and called out to her before he pulled out of the driveway.

"Little bird, text Brienne and tell her you're here."

She smiled. "Already done. Have fun, boys."

Rickon was talking a mile a minute, while Sandor smirked and Sansa shook her head at them. Sandor watched her go inside Winterfell, and he knew Ned had a man inside, so she was safe. Then he looked at Ric.

"Ready to go for a cruise?"

"Hell yeah, man."

The smile on Ric's face was everything. Sandor never had a younger brother, but every day he spent in the North, he felt he had one more and more. Then Ric turned on some heavy metal music and rolled down the windows, and Sandor let himself just get lost in the moment, loving his life in the North as the two Wolves players cruised around in Sandor’s new ride.

* * *

Sandor wouldn't admit it to anyone but Sansa, but he'd chosen his favourite suit for tonight's game in Lannisport. He was wearing a dark blue wool Ermenegildo Zegna, with a lighter blue shirt and a red tie. The red tie was a nod to Sansa, and she had knotted it herself, before pressing a kiss to his lips.

"You look yummy! Kickbutt, baby." She'd taken a picture of her kissing him and posted it on her IG feed with the tags:

#nooneweaszegnalikemyman

#wolvesvslions

#sansanbespokesuit

#myboyfriendishotasf

#handsoffthehound

Sandor had chuckled at her tags. She'd informed him that Tywin and Jaime Lannister had recently started following her of IG, and Sandor had to wonder what that meant. Tywin never did anything without some ulterior motive.

The game tonight was a quick in and out; they'd be back on the plane after they finished and in their bed tonight, so they were suited up from the moment they'd arrived at the airport and boarded the plane.

Sandor still hadn't gotten around too, taking Ric for a fitting, but he had plans to.

For now, though, Sandor needed to look his best for this game. Everything with the Lannister’s was about image, and Sandor didn’t want them to think for one minute he wasn’t loving life in the North. He might have been pissed when they’d traded him, but now, now he was happy as could be.

Sandor knew the reality of their league; each team had a salary cap, a certain amount of money each team could spend on players' salaries. It was done to keep guys like Tywin from buying the best team each year. The problem was, Tywin had expected Sandor to take a huge pay cut to stay with the team, so he could sign others to bigger contracts. When Sandor had said no, he’d been traded to the Wolves who were more than willing to pay his salary. The Wolves had a lot of younger players, so they could easily afford Sandor. Even knowing all of this, it had hurt at the time that the Lions had been willing to let him go.

It also kind of sucked that his woman wasn’t with him tonight. Sansa hadn't come with the team since her Mom had a treatment, and her grandparents were arriving tomorrow. But she knew how much this meant to him and had promised to watch the game.

Sandor had driven his new SUV to the rink this morning, after letting Stannis into his house to upgrade the security system. Sandor hadn't wanted to leave the man alone with Sansa, but he knew he was just being an insecure ass. Sansa had barely glanced at Stannis, too busy with her people in the south. The woman was always working, and Sandor admired her dedication.

When Sandor had gone home after practice, he’d found Sansa in the spare room she’d turned into her make-up and video room, while Brienne and Stannis worked on the security system.

“Where is she?” he’d asked and both had said she’d disappeared hours ago. Brienne couldn’t lie worth shit, so Sandor knew it was the truth.

When they arrived in Lannisport, Sandor got off the bus with the other Wolves players. He could feel his nerves. This arena that had been his home for thirteen years. He fingered the key in his pocket, a talisman to remind himself what he had.

A home.

A dog.

A woman.

A family.

A team.

He wasn't just the Hound anymore; he was Sandor.

As if sensing his mood, Ned clapped a hand on his back. "Doing ok, son?"

Sandor shot him a grateful look. "Yeah." Christ, it did something to him when this man called him son. Addam had done so a couple of times, but Sandor had never really encouraged it, and now he wondered why. He knew his billet parents were at the game, and as was his ritual, he’d see them afterwards.

Hockey players were superstitious as fuck, and many of them had odd little idiosyncrasies that they didn’t change for anything. For Sandor, it was keeping the visiting to after the game. And having his favourite boxers, a very specific brand that he wouldn’t ever play a game without. He also skated opposite most of the team during warm-up, and spent a few minutes quietly by himself behind the net, to get his head on straight.

His phone chimed as he was entering the arena, and Sandor knew it would be her.

**Sansa**: Hey, baby, just remember. You are a Wolf now, and you'll always be a wolf. Kick some Lion butt, and we'll celebrate when you get home!!

Sandor grinned at his phone. He was a Wolf, part of the pack. Fuck, not just part of it, but it's alpha, it's Captain. His team needed him, and he wouldn't let them down.

**Sandor**: Thanks LB. Miss you. See you soon.

Fueled by Ned and Sansa's support, Sandor strolled into the arena, full of cocky swagger. He fucking knew these lions, and he knew that the Wolves were the better team. And he was itching to get on the ice and prove it. It was fucking weird, though, to go to the visitor's dressing room and not the home team.

Of course, waiting just outside the hallway that would take Sandor to the changeroom was Tywin Lannister.

Ned stopped and glowered at him and looked to Sandor to see how he wanted to handle this. Sandor appreciated the support, but this was between him and Tywin. Ned gave him a slight nod and said, "If you need anything, just yell."

The two men glared at each other as Ned and the rest of the Wolves team filed into the dressing room. More than one player stopped to pat Sandor on the back, and Robb and Ric even went so far as to call him brother. It was clear they thought of him as one of their own.

When it was just him and Tywin, Sandor rocked back on his heels. This man had shaped some of the most formative years of his life, but he was still a mystery to Sandor, and he'd never felt entirely comfortable in his presence. Tywin had a lot of power in Westeros, and anyone who didn’t see that, was an idiot. Sandor wasn’t an idiot.

"I dislike disloyalty, Clegane," Tywin spat out, his face pinched and hard.

Sandor threw his head back and laugh. "You cheap fucker. You knew what I was worth."

"I didn't expect you to not to sign with us."

"No, you expected me to take a pay cut. For you."

Tywin leaned in. "Do you have any idea what I've done for you, Clegane? You'd be nothing without me."

That made Sandor angry. He’d worked his ass off to get to where he was. He continued to work his ass off. And he hadn’t even met Tywin until the draft.

"No, I'd be nothing without the Marbrand's."

Tywin scoffed and there was something in his green-gold eyes that had Sandor’s stomach clench in unease.

"Who the fuck do you think pulled strings to get you to stay with them? To make it so you never had to go back to that shithole your father called a house? Even as an abusive drunk, it took a considerable pull to get you out of that situation." His voice was low and sharp and filled with the unassailable truth.

Sandor's eyes almost popped out of his head. It couldn't be… could it? And what was the angle? Tywin Lannister was not a man that went around rescuing lost children and giving them new homes out of the goodness of his heart. There was always an ulterior motive with the man.

"Why?" Sandor’s eyes had narrowed.

Tywin sneered. "You were a singular talent. When Addam phoned me and told me about you, I knew I had to do everything in my power to give you the best chance at success as possible."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"You didn't need to know."

Sandor stood back, thinking about how this might have changed things.

"I've been guiding your entire career, through the minors, then the junior league and finally, until we were in a position to draft you first overall. You’ve always belonged to me, Sandor. Your entire career was because of what I did for you.”

Since the first moment his name had been called, Tywin had only ever called him Clegane, Hound or Dog. Never Sandor. And the information he’d just shared? It rocked Sandor to his core. He’d always thought it had been the Marbrand’s and his own hard work that had gotten him to where he was today. But he’d been shaped by this man standing in front of him since he’d been twelve years old.

"I played my fucking heart out for you. Won you two championships. And then you fucking traded me instead of paying me what I was worth."

"It's not just about you, Clegane. In the salary cap era, concessions had to be made. You were the concession."

Sandor shook his head and then smirked. "Well, your loss. I’m better than I ever was."

Sandor went to brush by him and into the changeroom when Tywin spoke again. "Do you think you can keep a woman like her?"

Sandor spun back and glowered at the Great Lion. The man reeked of wealth and privilege.

“Don’t say another fucking word.”

“Don’t threaten me, Clegane. I know the gutter where you crawled out from.”

Sandor felt his stomach heave. Tywin wasn’t wrong. Sandor came from nothing. His family was a joke. Hell, their ‘house’ had barely been more than a shack.

"She's practically royalty, and you're a dog. She'll get tired of slumming it with you soon enough, Clegane. And then we'll see how much you like being in the North. How much will you want to stay, when Sansa Stark moves on to someone better, someone in her class?”

With that last barb, Tywin spun on his heel and disappeared, leaving Sandor reeling. It was his greatest fear; that Sansa would realize just how much better she could do than him. That she would see him as nothing more than the dirt poor son of an abusive alcoholic father with a psychopath for a brother.

"Fucked with you, huh," came Robb's voice. He was leaning against a wall, and Sandor didn't even realize he was there. Sandor had to wonder how much Robb had heard, but he was giving nothing away.

Sandor grunted something and tried to push past Robb. Robb laid a hand on his chest.

"Look, Sandor, there's something you need to understand."

Sandor paused and finally looked Robb in the eye.

"My sister grew up with tales of my parents' love story. Society princess falls for the Northern hockey player. Love at first sight, marriage, babies. Hell, Sandor, my parents still get caught making out. It's awesome, but it sets a high fucking standard when it comes to dating. I can't speak for Sansa, but for me, I want what they have. All of it. And I fucked around for a lot of years, cause I never met anyone who came close to giving me that."

Sandor nodded, saying nothing.

"My sister? Sansa? Fuck dude. She wanted it even more. More than me, or Ric or Bran or Arya. She wants someone that fucking loves her to distraction; that's her knight in shining armour. That would fucking die for her - but not really. You get what I'm saying. She wants the fairy tale man.”

"That's not me," Sandor muttered.

Robb shook his head. "Fuck Sandor, that is ALL you. Dude, you ARE that guy. Sansa moved in with you after like one date. She's made you Sansan. She's all in Sandor. Even if she hasn't said it yet, her actions are speaking volumes."

Sandor shook his head about to argue. He wanted to believe it, but Tywin’s word were playing like repeat in his head.

He was trash.

He was nobody.

He wasn’t good enough for Sansa.

Robb stepped closer, eyes intense, almost pleading.

"Sandor, she won't say a fucking word about your childhood, or whatever other fucked up shit went on in your life. She's a vault when it comes to you, and defends the fuck out of you to anyone who says a bad word about you. Don't fuck this up, man. Don't let Tywin mess with your head."

Robb stepped back. "Phone my sister and tell her what Tywin said. And then get your ass in the dressing room and let's go win tonight."

Sandor looked at his phone as Robb disappeared and then made the call to Sansa.

Her cheerful, sunny voice eased some of the worst ache in his chest. When he didn't respond to her pun, she asked, "Sandor, what's wrong?"

He cleared his throat and told her about the conversation with Tywin. All of it. He didn’t leave anything out, even the truly ugly parts.

"Motherfluffer," Sansa swore, and it took Sandor a moment to realize she hadn't said fucker.

He chuckled as she was working herself into a fit.

"That little weasel! Who the f does he think he is? Oh my god, this is like sabotage! He is a villain, Sandor, just like on TV," she was chirping away, sounding a little like an angry bee that buzzed around someone's head.

"Sansa, didn't you hear the part where he said you'd leave when you realize what I am?" Sandor interrupted her, his voice hard.

"Don't insult me, Sandor. I know exactly who you are."

Sandor was too messed up in his own head, to heed her warning tone. Like a dumb dog, he pushed the words out, full of his insecurities and hurts and fears.

"My Dad was a drunk. My brother is a fucking psycho, Sansa. I was beaten more times than I can remember and sometimes we barely had enough money to eat. I wore hand me down clothes and ran away from home at twelve because I was so scared the next time Gregor beat me, he'd kill me. I barely made it through high school, and even if I was forced, I'd never step foot in a university. We were trash, Sansa. White trash. I’ll always be trash, no matter how many fancy suits I wear, or expensive vehicles I drive. I will never be able to escape my past, Sansa.”

"So what does that make me? The stuck up princess who is slumming it with you for shits and giggles?"

"Gods, no, little bird. Nothing like that. Just… what happens when you realize you can do better than me?" Sandor said quietly, feeling defeated. If Sansa had been with him, she would have seen how small he felt; how unsure and useless he believed he was. How this was his greatest fear. But she wasn’t with him, and she had her own issues.

"Better? Better how? Like a man with a degree? I don't care about that. I have three, so that's enough for both of us. Maybe I should find a man who cares for me, who will protect me? Oh, wait, that's you. Hmm, perhaps I need a guy that has a soft spot for dogs that were abused as badly as he was when he was a child and people should have been protecting him? Hmm, oh, wait. That's you as well.” Sansa only paused to gulp in a breath, before continuing.

“Oh, I know. How about a guy that doesn't push me for sex before I'm ready? That has to be a rare find. Oh, shit, that's you as well. Maybe one who isn't afraid of commitment? Aren't most guys scared to have their girlfriend leave a toothbrush at their house? Well, damn Sandor, you check that box too moving half my stuff into your house already. Maybe I should find a guy that doesn’t like my family, but I’m pretty sure everyone fluffing loves you, so that’s out as well!"

She sobbed out that last bit and Sandor felt like a total asshole.

"Little bird, stop," Sandor ordered softly, trying to get her to stop crying, but she was on a tangent and wouldn't be contained.

"No, you stop. You stop, Sandor. You're the best guy I've ever met. I'm halfway into falling in love with you and probably going to be all the way there by the time the weekend rolls around, and you meet my Grandma Mini and charm her too. So if you're too scared, or you don't want to take a chance, or this is all too much, then just say it and be done with me. But don't fluffing tell me that I'm some shallow bitch who doesn't actually love you! I know exactly who you are and I know everything you’ve overcome! And I know that makes you amazing.”

Sandor was stunned. And humbled.

Sansa just said that she was falling in love with him. HIM - Sandor Clegane. The Hound. The dog. The nothing guy from some shit town

He hated that he'd let Tywin Lannister get inside his head. Before Sandor could respond, Sansa was talking again.

"Crap. I shouldn't have said all of that. Look, I know you have to go and get ready for the game. We'll talk later," Sansa said, sounding defeated. "I thought you liked me for me, Sandor. That you saw me for me, and not just as Sansa Stark, daughter of a hockey legend. I thought we had something special. I thought you were different than all the other guys I’ve met."

"Sansa, wait," Sandor said, but she had already hung up.

Sandor stared at his phone for a moment in growing horror, as the realization of how much he'd just fucked up dawned on him. He always knew he was a dumb fucking dog, but now he'd gone and proven it.

Sandor smashed his fist into the wall, barely noticing that it was bleeding, welcoming the pain. The pain in his hand was nothing compared to the one in the middle of his chest.

Sansa was his world; his light. And he was pretty sure he’d just insulted her, broken her heart and possibly got dumped all in the space of a ten-minute phone call.

He wanted to be sick.

He wanted to race out of the rink and fly back to Wintertown right fucking now.

He wanted to be anywhere but here, with Tywin fucking Lannister reminding him just how out of his league Sansa was.

But then Coach Cassel stuck his head out the door and told him to move his ass, and Sandor had to stuff all the shitty things he was feeling down. He’d fucked up enough tonight; the last thing he needed to do was let his team down.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Sandor growled, any excitement and anticipation for tonight long gone.

His entire life had always been hockey. It had been the one constant in his life.

But somehow, over the past couple weeks, that had changed.

Now it was Sansa and just as he figured that out, Sandor thought there was a pretty good chance he’d lost her for good.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of their first fight

* * *

_ Sandor _

When Sandor finally stalked into the dressing room, no one said a word, as Arya rushed over to bandage him up.

"You finally fucked up, huh?"

Sandor growled at her.

Arya rolled her eyes at him as she tended to his hand. Luckily it was mostly superficial cuts, and once she had the blood cleaned, he'd be good to go, physically that was. Emotionally? He was a wreck.

He must have looked awful because even Sansa’s normally standoffish sister took pity on him.

"Look, Sansa is the best of us. She'll forgive you for whatever stupid thing you did."

Sandor hung his head in shame, the anger going out of him. Sansa hadn't done anything wrong; it had been him. His insecurities, his fuck ups, his shit. And he'd let it all get to him, and it had spilled over to them. This is why he was crap at relationships, why he'd hardly had a girlfriend even though he was thirty-one years old. He didn't know how to fucking do this. Not when it got hard, and when he made her cry. He never wanted to hurt Sansa ever.

Ned, to his credit, just asked if he was ready for tonight. Sandor gave him a tight nod.

“Ready.”

Ned stopped him as Sandor rose to take to the ice. "Couples fight, Sandor. This is your first. If you want a life with Sansa, it won't be your last."

"You sure?" Sandor looked as skeptical as he felt.

Ned grinned. "Sandor, she's upset. But you can fix it. Go out, work hard and then go home to her and grovel if you have to."

Ned seemed to be finding a little too much joy in this whole thing. And Sandor hadn’t missed the coach taking out his cell phone and texting someone. Sandor wanted to ask if it was Sansa, but wasn’t sure what answer he wanted so he left it.

Sandor coughed and nodded. "Alright, coach, let's go kick some Lion ass."

When Sandor hit the ice that was as familiar to him as his own hand, he felt nothing.

This place wasn't home. Home was Sansa. Home was the North. Home was wherever the fuck she was. Sandor wondered if this had ever been home, or had it all just been temporary until he found Sansa.

He skated around, caught a smirking Tywin on the big screen and felt a low simmer of rage deep in his guts. The Old Lion had tried to fuck him over; get in his head. And Sandor had let him.

With renewed determination, Sandor pushed it all from his mind; his shitty childhood, his fight with Sansa, and his conversation with Tywin. Instead, he focused himself on the task in front of him.

Go out, kick-ass, go home.

Home to beg Sansa to give him another chance. Because as he skated with his teammates, Sandor realized that none of this meant anything without her. He was in love with Sansa Stark. Full stop. There was no 'falling,' – he was already there. Totally and completely in love with her.

Sandor knew what he needed to do. He just had to get through the next sixty minutes and then head North and tell her how much he loved her.

Maybe Tywin was right. Perhaps he was just a dog, that he’d always be just a dog, but he'd be her dog. He’d be loyal to her for as long as she'd have him, and he'd love her better than any man ever had.

Sansa had chosen him.

Sansa was falling for him.

Sansa was in his fucking house, wearing his fucking clothes, sleeping in his fucking bed.

She'd made them Sansan to the entire world, and he was an idiot to think she didn't see all of him. She always had, from that first moment in the park together. Sandor had been open with her in a way he hadn't with anyone else, ever in his entire life.

And never had she found him lacking.

He snarled when another picture of Tywin flashed on the big screen and felt Robb clap him on the back.

"Ready, Captain."

Sandor gave a small, tight smile that had even Robb skating back a bit.

"Yup." The look in Sandor's eyes had his whole team giving him a wide birth.

During the announcement of the starting line-up, the cheer for Sandor was loud and then turned into, a standing ovation. Whether Tywin liked him or not, the fans here did. They had been pissed when he'd been traded, and there was more than one Clegane jersey in the crowd tonight.

For Sandor, the love from the crowd barely registered. He just wanted to get this over with.

One last glance at the owner's box, coupled with the smirk on Jaime Lannister's face behind the bench, and Sandor cracked his neck and prepared to take his frustrations out the Lannister Lion's.

* * *

_ Sansa _

Sansa was curled up on the couch, Sweetie by her side, watching the players warm up as the play by play guy, and the colour guy spoke about how good the Wolves were this year.

Because of Sandor. He made their team a contender and everyone knew it.

She could mute the TV, but then she wouldn't get to hear how awesome her guy was. And even though she was hurting and sad about their fight, Sandor was her guy.

She loved how talented he was and that they couldn't stop gushing over him. They talked about how difficult this must be for him to come back to where he'd played for thirteen seasons, and Sansa heaved out a little sob.

She knew this was tough on him.

He'd been adorable earlier, standing in their walk-in closet, asking if she thought his suit was good enough. Sansa had loved helping him get ready for the game, seeing that soft side of the legendary Hound that everyone feared.

She knew what a good man he was. She just wished he believed it about himself. She’d never been with anyone who took so much care with her. Sandor might look rough on the outside (not that she was complaining about his looks at all) but inside he was a big softie.

Sansa wiped the tears from her eyes when she thought about what he must be going through. Even though he was with his teammates, tonight, he somehow looked alone.

She hated that she was at odds with him, that things had spun so out of control, that he was out there, playing, and probably not concentrating one hundred percent because of their fight.

"Oh, that's going to hurt," the colour guy said as Sandor crushed a guy in the corner on the first play of the game. The snarl on Sandor's face made Sansa's heart hurt. He wasn't having fun or enjoying himself. He was taking out all his frustrations on the Lion's players.

It was a few minutes into the first period when there was a knock on the door. Sansa stood, wondering who that could be. Almost everyone she knew was either at the game or home watching it.

Brienne opened the door, and Sansa saw her Mom standing there. Cat smiled and gave Sansa a little wave.

"Hi, love, care for some company during the game?"

Sansa nodded, feeling weepy. "Dad told you?"

Catelyn smiled softly and opened her arms, where Sansa went willingly. Cat hugged her hard, which Sansa was grateful for.

"Oh baby, first fights are always the worst," Catelyn said, rubbing Sansa's back.

"Oh my god, they are the worst," Sansa cried, as Cat laughed softly.

"Come on, let's get things straightened out, shall we," Cat said, walking towards the Great Room where Sansa had the game on.

They settled on the couch with the dog, just as the Wolves scored their first goal. Sandor had an assist to which Sansa gave a little cheer.

"So care to share?" Cat asked.

Cat had brought her blanket from Sandor, which set off a fresh round of tears when she draped it over Sansa. The man cared so much, Sansa realized as she fingered the soft material. She swallowed hard.

"When he took me with him to get this for you, he told me a little bit about his Mom."

Sansa shared the heartbreaking story that Sandor had told her, and both her and Cat were crying at the end.

"Who does that to a little boy, Mom? He was eight and was forced to watch his Mom take her dying breath. And then when that was too much, he ran away, and they wouldn't even let him have her stuff."

"Oh my love, come here," Cat said, opening her arms as Sansa sobbed into them. Emotion wracked Sansa's body as she grieved for the little boy that had lost the mother that had loved him and been denied even a small creature comfort of her favourite blanket. Sweetie whined and crawled closer, worried that Sansa was so upset.

Sansa hugged the dog and stroked her soft fur, tracing her fingers over her scars. Scars that reminded Sansa of what Sandor had been through.

"He was so abused Mom, and yet, he's so caring. He always stops and asks me what I'm thinking. Or for my opinion." Sansa blushed and then said, in a rush. "He hasn't even pressured me for sex. He keeps telling me we'll wait for as long as necessary until I'm ready. He's perfect!" Sansa wailed, and Cat stroked her hair.

"What happened tonight, Sansa?"

Sansa heaved out a sigh and told her Mom what Tywin Lannister had said.

"That man is a menace," Cat swore under her breath. "I've never trusted those Lions."

"Oh my god, I'm an idiot!" Sansa cried suddenly, eyes wide. "Oh, mother fluffer, I just made things worse! I attacked him and got defensive and didn’t validate anything he was going through. I got so upset with him when he was the one that needed me. Tywin manipulated him, and then I screwed things up by letting my insecurities get in the way. I should have been there for him, reassured him. Stupid, stupid, stupid," Sansa cursed herself.

Cat arched an elegant eyebrow. "So, you figured it out?"

Sansa sighed, feeling even worse if possible. "Yeah. I mean, he was kind of a moron as well, thinking I'm just going to find someone better, thinking that there is someone better than him. There is no one better for me than Sandor, and he needs to believe that. But I can see how he had his head spun around by Tywin and then I just made things worse."

Cat reached for Sansa's hand and squeezed it hard.

"You've always loved with your entire heart Sansa, hardly able to hold anything back. I used to worry that you'd give it to someone who wasn't worthy of you. I'm not anymore. Sandor is more than worthy of your love, your heart, and your devotion. But he's had a hard life, Sansa. And it's going to take time and a huge commitment by the both of you to navigate that abuse. It's not just going to go away, even if you get through this first hurdle."

Sansa was crying again, big, fat ugly tears that made her face red and splotchy. "I'm ready, Mom. I love him. So, so, so much. And I know it won’t be easy that he’s had such a hard life, but it'll be worth it. I know it. This life we're building together, it has the potential to be so amazing."

Cat's smile said it all. She was proud of Sansa and the choice she was making. Loving a man like Sandor would never be easy, but he cared deeply and was extortionately protective. Cat knew that when a man like that committed it was for life and he would love her baby until the day he died.

"He needs a family, Mom. He needs someone to stand by him unconditionally. He needs a home. That's me."

"Good. I'm glad to hear you be so committed to him and your relationship. I think as long as you're both aware of some of the issues, you can have a very happy life, Sansa. And remember all couples fight – not just because they’ve had awful childhoods. It’s how you forgive and communicate after the fight that makes all the difference my love."

Sansa nodded, cuddling closer to her Mom. She was so lucky to have such a wise woman in her life.

"What should I do?"

"Well, I'd imagine if he feels for you what you feel for him, he's probably going to be pretty worried when he gets off the ice. Perhaps a text message to help ease some of his anxiety?"

Sansa worried her lip. "You don't think I'm overstepping? That I should let him cool down? Let him focus on hockey?"

"Sansa, do you love him?"

Sansa nodded. "I do. So much, Mom."

"Then fight for him and fight for you. And he needs to be pushed. I think he's allowed some pretty big walls to be built up around that ooey-gooey center he hides from so many people. But it's time for him to let people in Sansa."

"I love you, Mom."

"Oh my girl, I love you as well."

They turned back to the TV to see the Wolves up 3-0 at the end of the first period. Sansa unmuted the TV to hear that Sandor was on a tear tonight.

The one analyst was laughing and shaking his head. "I wouldn't want to be the person who pissed the Hound off tonight. The man is a one-man wrecking crew out there."

"You're right. He's an absolute beast. If possible, Sandor Clegane is even scarier this year than last when he was playoff MVP, and he helped lead the Lion's to their second championship."

"It makes you wonder what Tywin Lannister was thinking, not re-signing Clegane and trading him."

"In the cap era, tough choices have to be made, but trading Celgene could be one that comes back to haunt the Lion's owner.

_Damn right, it would haunt that a-hole_, Sansa thought.

She knew Tywin's motive; he was trying to get in Sandor's head, maybe break them up. He wanted Sandor back. He’d screwed up letting Sandor go. Well, Sansa wasn’t going to make the same mistake as Tywin. She was going to prove to Sandor how worthy he was of her love. She was going to fight for them.

The teams were just filing into the dressing room for the first intermission, so Sansa took out her phone. Even if he didn't get her message right away, it would be the first thing he saw after the game. And he'd know when she sent it.

**Sansa**: Hey, big guy. So I owe you an apology. I overreacted and let my issues affect what you were saying. I should have been there for you. We're going to work this out, Sandor. And I'm not taking back what I said. I love you. I'm going to fight for you. And for us. So even if you're super angry at me, well, I'm just going to keep saying sorry until you forgive me.

Sansa felt the butterflies in her stomach. She knew her Dad hardly allowed cell phones during the game, but maybe he'd make an exception this one time.

Sansa's phone chimed.

**Sandor**: Fuck, LB. I'm a dick. A total asshole. I let that fucker get in my head. Look, baby, I'm not telling you what I feel for you via text. But I'm coming home tonight, and you'd better be at our house. Because that's where you belong – at our house. You're mine, Sansa.

**Sansa**: I'm yours, Sandor. Only yours baby.

**Sandor**: Thank fuck, little bird

**Sansa**: I love you. Kick butt. I'll be up waiting for you. I'm not going anywhere.

**Sandor**: Christ woman, I just want to be there with you. Fuck, I have to go. See you soon.

Sansa felt like the heavyweight that had been pressing down on her chest was suddenly lifted. She read the texts to her Mom, who smiled knowingly as if she'd predicted this outcome.

Sansa's phone dinged again.

**Mama**** B**: Sansa love, can you tell me what's wrong with our boy?

Sansa smiled. Sandor was so loved, even if he might not realize how much.

**Sansa**: Two words - Tywin Lannister

**Mama B**: Oh, that man! GRRRRRRR! Thanks, Hunny! We'll chat with him after the game

**Sansa**: We kind of had our first fight, Mama B. Don't be too hard on him.

**Mama B**: Well, all couples fight, dear! As long as you talk it out. I'll make sure Sandor's ok before he comes home to you. Don't give up on him, Sansa. He's worth it

**Sansa**: I'm never giving up on him, Mama B.

**Mama B**: Oh, hun, now I'm sitting here in the stands blubbering away. I've waited forever for my boy to find a woman worthy of him.

**Sansa**: He's a good man! The second period is starting. Cheer loud.

Sansa snuggled into her mom, Sweetie, on the other side as they listened to the play by play guy and colour man talk about both teams. Like in the first, it was all about Sandor; only now, he seemed a little less angry and once or twice, the camera even caught a smirk on his face.

Sansa knew he was back on his game.

He set Ric up for his first goal and was the first to hug Ric during the celebration. Ric's grin was huge, and Sandor dug the puck out of the net and handed it to Ned, who patted Sandor on the back. It would go on a shelf for Ric as his first WHL goal. Her family loved Sandor as much as she did. He was part of their pack.

Things weren't perfect between them, but they were going to be ok, Sansa vowed.

During the second intermission, Sansa could see her Mom was tiring. It was a side effect of the chemo, although thankfully for Cat, she hadn't started to lose her hair yet.

"Mom?"

Cat turned to her.

"Sandor said when his Mom was going through treatments, her skin was irritated. Has there been any…" Sansa swallowed hard. They hadn't spoken about Cat's cancer diagnosis. Not openly like this. "Has there been any side effects?"

Cat smiled and squeezed Sansa's hand. "I'm quite tired. My appetite is practically non-existent, and when it does come, nothing seems good. My skin is starting to feel quite irritated, dry and inflamed."

"Would you ever let me help? I mean, I have access to so many products and different creams. I see my dermatologist at least once a month. My face is my canvas."

Cat pondered that for a moment.

"Not online, Mom. I'd never put you out there unless that was something you were comfortable with. But I do know my stuff, and I could recommend some skin creams that might be soothing. They're vegan and cruelty-free, and some have only a few ingredients, making them great for sensitive skin."

"I'd love that, Sansa."

Sansa held out her hand. "Come on. Let's get you home. You can cuddle up in bed and wait for Dad."

Sansa nodded towards the security guy that was watching out for her Mom. "I've got her, Ms. Stark," he said as Cat leaned in to hug Sansa.

"Forgive him, Sansa. And love him. Love him so much that he never doubts it."

"I will, Mom. Thanks for everything. I love you."

"I love you too."

When Cat was gone, Sansa curled up on the couch with Sweetie to watch the third period, thinking about her Mom, her fight with Sandor and life in general. She thought about dogs that were abused, little boys that were beaten, Mom's that got cancer. She wept softly as the Wolves destroyed the Lions, winning 7-1.

There was a shot of Tywin at the end, the Old Lion's face tight with displeasure.

Then the camera panned down to Sandor and his teammates who were surrounding them. They knew what this victory meant to him. They were his family, as well, just like Sansa was.

Wiping her eyes, Sansa rose to wash her face and get her thoughts in order. She didn't care how long it took; tonight, her and Sandor would hash this out so that they could get back on even ground and move forward in their lives together. Because one of the main things that this fight had taught Sansa, was that she loved the scarred man from the Westerlands with her whole heart. And she wasn't giving up on him for anything.

* * *

_ Sandor _

After the game, Sandor couldn't help but let the good feeling of winning wash over him. They'd fucking routed the Lions and in their rink. Since receiving that text message from Sansa in the first intermission, he'd been on a high, knowing that they weren't done.

After that, Sandor had been able to enjoy everything about the night, the crowd, the goals, the hits. The sour look on both Jaime and Tywin Lannister's faces when the final score was Wolves 7 and Lions 1. That was particularly sweet. Served Tywin right for trying to fuck with him.

His teammates had piled on him at the end, all of them knowing it had been so much more than just some pre-season game. They'd all known that Sandor had wanted to win.

"Things good with you guys?" Ned asked as Sandor was working on his tie after his shower.

He glanced up at his coach. "Yeah. I mean, we got some shit to work out, but I think it's going to be ok."

"Glad to hear that, Sandor." Ned paused and looked at the big man. "It's not where you come from Sandor that matters. It's what you make of the opportunities given to you. Remember that."

Sandor coughed and nodded. "I will. I need a bit of time with my billet parents. I can catch another flight home, but I've got some stuff to work out with them."

Ned clapped Sandor on the back. "Take whatever time you need. I'll order some food and tell the guys there's a technical issue with the plane."

Sandor could hardly believe the difference between Ned and Tywin. He was someone to these people. They cared about him.

"Thanks."

Sandor walked out of the visitor's dressing room feeling freer than he had since he was traded. He'd made it through his first major test at the Wolves Captain.

And waiting for him, as always, were Addam and Brenda Marbrand.

Sandor had a funny pang in his chest when he spotted them. For so long, they'd been the one thing in his life that had been good, had been his. Tywin's earlier words threw all of that into doubt. Once Sandor had realized that he and Sansa would be ok, the worry with his billet parents had lodged in his brain.

"Oh my boy, what did that man say to you?" Brenda muttered, opening her arms.

Sandor might have some issues to hash out with them, but he could never deny her a hug.

"Hey Mama B," Sandor said, picking her up and giving her a long hug.

"It's past time we answered your questions. Let's go get a cup of coffee and chat," she whispered.

Sandor put her down and then saw Addam's outstretched hand. "That was an impressive game, Sandor."

Sandor shook it, Addam’s eyes were more guarded with him than Mama B had been.

The three of them went to a little coffee shop next to the arena. Sandor pulled out his phone.

"Uhh, let me just text Sansa. Tell her I might be a bit late."

Mama B beamed. "Go right ahead. I spoke with her earlier."

Of course she had. Sandor quickly realized that when Sansa messed up or thought she did, she went out of her way to make things right.

Sansa gave him a thumbs up and showed him she was watching a movie and waiting for him.

Sandor sighed and looked at his billet parents. Addam had three cups of coffee in front of them.

"Just get it off your chest, Sandor," came Addam's deep voice.

"Did Tywin pay you to keep me?"

Both Mama B and Addam looked shocked.

Mama B reached for his hands. "Lord, no, Sandor."

Sandor scowled. "Then why did he say that he was the one who got me to where I am today?"

Addam sighed and ran a hand through his thinning blond hair. "When I first found you, alone and scared in that rink, I swore something clicked for me, Sandor. You were like a beaten dog, mistrustful and determined to maintain your distance, but I knew you were meant to be in our lives.”

Sandor opened his mouth to protest and Addam held up a hand. "Please, give me a chance to explain."

Sandor grunted and sipped his coffee.

"We'd lost our son a few years back, and we'd just dug ourselves out of the worst of our grief. And then one night, there you were. I wanted to hug you so hard, Sandor when I found you even though I knew you’d never accept it. I knew you were meant to be ours."

Mama B was nodding and holding her husband's hand.

"We didn't have a lot of money. It was never important to us. We got along just fine, but I knew, if we wanted to keep you, it would take more than our meagre resources to fight for you. Even with the abuse, you'd been through, your father could have gotten you back easily. We were strangers and he was your blood."

"So why him? Why go to Tywin Lannister?"

Addam gave Sandor a look. "He was the only man in the Westerlands with enough money and resources to help us get custody. And all he wanted was a chance to shape your hockey career." Addam shrugged. "You loved hockey so much, and I knew he owned the Lions, that it seemed harmless."

Sandor grunted again and took another sip of coffee, his mind thinking back to those early years. He thought the Marbands couldn’t be real. They might have not been wealthy but to Sandor they were everything.

"Sandor, you were ours from the first moment that Addam brought you home. But we knew we had to be careful. Too much smothering and I was afraid you'd run away again and then we'd lose our second son, same as we'd lost the first."

Mama B was openly crying, and Addam was rubbing her back.

_They thought of him as their second son_? Sandor’s mind was reeling with all this information.

"We failed you, Sandor. We should have pushed harder, showing you how much you meant to us. You've been my son since that day I found you, but I never knew if you thought of me the same way," Addam finished quietly. “Like I could be your father.”

Sandor could see the doubt and hope and worry on Addam’s face.

"Fucking hells, you two were the best thing in my life until I met Sansa. You were the only good thing in my life other than hockey. I would never have left you."

"We love you, Sandor. I wanted to push to adopt you when you had been with us for a few years, but we didn't want to upset you."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. Sandor knew if he’d been a little more open he wouldn’t have put these good people through hell.

"Son, stop," Addam said, shaking his head. Sandor's whole body warmed at the thought of Addam calling him son. For so long, even if he'd never been able to admit it, Sandor had wanted that. He wanted them to claim him; wanted them to choose him as part of their family.

"This is on us. We were the adults. We should have done things a bit differently with you – helped you realize how important you are to us. But all we can do now is try harder in the future. We're so proud of you and what you've done with the Wolves."

Sandor nodded. "I love it up there. The Starks are great. Rickon is a riot, and Ned's an awesome coach."

"And your Sansa?" Addam asked. Both knew that Mama B loved her, but this was between a father and a son.

"I let Tywin get in my head tonight. He told me she would eventually come to her senses and realize what I was. That I would always be trash. That she would leave me for someone better."

Addam sucked in an angry breath. "It's not where you came from Sandor, it's what you are today that matters. You shouldn't be ashamed of your past. You're a survivor, and I'm so proud of you for all you've accomplished."

It was eerily similar to what Ned had said less than an hour ago and made Sandor feel like he was somebody worthy.

"I know."

"She's your person, Sandor," Mama B said, squeezing his hand and beaming at him.

Sandor barely refrained from rolling his eyes at Mama B using her favourite Grey's Anatomy quote on him. He'd been injured one year, and Mama B had made him binge-watch several seasons. Sandor had never worked so hard to get back on the ice than he had that year.

“I know she is.”

Sandor glanced at his watch. "I hate that I have to go, but the teams waiting." His parents, because hell, if they weren't, nodded.

"But Sansa and I would like you guys to come up for the opening weekend. You can see the house I bought, and meet my dog and the Starks. It'd be great if you could come for a few extra days. And we’d like you to say with us.”

Sandor had no idea what Sansa would say to that but he was pretty sure she wouldn’t mind.

Mama B clapped happily. "We'd love that."

They all stood, and Mama B demanded another hug. "Go get your girl, Sandy."

She pressed a soft kiss to his scarred cheek.

"I will."

Addam held out his hand again, and Sandor took it, and then, going on instinct, pulled the man into a hug.

"Pretty sure father's hug their sons," Sandor muttered into Addam's ear, embarrassed by his emotions and thankful for this man that had taken a chance on him.

Addam held on tight and clapped Sandor on the back. "You're a good man, and one I'm proud to call my son, Sandor."

When Sandor left them there, they were holding on to one another and crying. He wondered if he were crazy, but maybe they'd like the North. Surely Mama B could find a library to work in Wintertown and Addam was less than a year away from retirement. Perhaps they would want to be closer to him in the North.

Sandor exited the little coffee shop to find Ric and Robb waiting for him. He stopped and then shook his head. God, they were nosy fuckers. Sandor loved them for it. 

"Things good?" Robb asked, looking past Sandor towards the Marbrands.

"Yeah, I just had some shit to work out with my parents." Sandor loved the sound of that. His parents.

Ric waved at them, and Mama B grinned at him. The rookie was practically floating from scoring his first goal.

"Things good with you and Sansa?" Robb asked, voice anxious.

"Well, they're not as bad as they were. Got some shit to work out, but yeah, I think we're going to be fine."

Sandor was just about to get into the rental SUV when he heard his name called. He turned to see Jaime Lannister jogging up to him.

On principle, Sandor hated him because he'd been Sansa's favourite player. But more than that, he and Jaime had never gotten along when Sandor had played with him, and then when Jaime had been a coach. The Golden Lion was too much a pretty boy, and he was always looking for someone else to fight his battles. Often, that person was Sandor.

"What do you want, Lannister?"

Jaime held out his hand. Sandor looked at it like it was a snake. "Look, I don't know what went down between you and management last year, but I was sorry to see you go."

Sandor snorted.

"I was. Whatever's happening with you, whatever's going on in the North, good luck Sandor. You protected me for a lot of years, and I never got a chance to say thank you."

Sandor didn't know if Jaime was sincere or if this was just another game to the Lannister’s. And he was too tired to figure it out.

"Whatever Lannister. I was doing my job."

"Yeah, you were. Anyways, good luck this year."

Sandor nodded. "You two."

The shook hands and the Sandor pushed the Lannister’s from his mind.

Sandor slipped into the SUV, and Robb gunned the engine, leaving Jaime standing there, growing smaller as they raced through Lannisport towards the airport.

"Was that Jaime Lannister?" Ric asked, glancing back.

Sandor nodded.

"Huh. I thought he'd be bigger."

Sandor let out a deep laugh, his first one since he'd boarded the plane all those hours ago. Trust Rickon to put things in perspective.

**Sandor**: Almost at the plane, LB. Home soon.

**Sansa**: Can't wait, big guy. Love you

Sandor warmed all the way through. Sansa Stark loved him. And the moment he got home, she'd find out that he loved her as well.

He had just settled into his seat on the plane, at the back, when both Bronn and Tormund joined him. Bronn was eyeing him critically.

"What the fuck was that tonight?"

Sandor sighed. He didn't feel like sharing his feelings with Bronn, but he'd been his best friend for years. Quickly, Sandor gave details on his conversation with Tywin.

Bronn rolled his eyes. "Gods, he's an asshole."

As much as Sandor agreed, it was his fault for letting the Great Lion get inside his head. He should have known better.

"Reckon he wants you back. Knows he fucked up, not giving you the money you deserve."

Sandor shrugged. "I'll never play for him again. Won't ever play for anyone but the Wolves."

"Oh ho, our boy is in love," Bronn mocked, and Sandor just smirked. He was in love, and he didn't give a fuck if Bronn bugged him about it. Sansa was worth it.

"Holy shit, you are in love with her." Bronn's eyes had gone wide. "You sure about this? She's a Stark, man."

Sandor chuckled. Trust Bronn to get it. The Starks were hockey royalty. "I'm sure."

Bronn just shook his head. "Just remember who your best friend is when you're planning the wedding. I expect to be the best man and to plan the bachelor party."

Sandor wondered what it said about him when Bronn bugging him about getting married just sounded fucking awesome and not at all scary. First, though, he had to get home and make things right with Sansa.

"I think she's a virgin," came Tormund's tortured voice, interrupting Sandor's thoughts about Sansa.

"What?"

Bronn also gave him a funny look.

"The big woman," Tormund moaned. "I don't think she's dated much."

Sandor snorted. No fucking shit. He had no idea what Tormund saw in her, but good on him if that’s what he wanted.

"What am I supposed to do?" Tormund lamented. The man had a shocking amount of women, considering his mountain man beard and complete lack of style. But apparently now he only wanted Brienne.

Sandor shook his head. He had no idea.

"Umm, has she agreed to a date?"

Tormund shook his head. "But I won't give up."

Sandor gave him a sympathetic look. He wouldn't know what he'd do if Sansa ever froze him out. Sandor closed his eyes and let Bronn and Tormund's conversation wash over him. He was much happier thinking of Sansa and the fact that he was on his way home to her while those two argued over how to get Brienne to give Tormund a chance.

* * *

_ Sansa  _

Sansa was curled up on the couch when Sandor's text came through that he was just leaving the airport. Sweetie raised her head and looked at Sansa.

"Yes, Daddy's coming home, baby. I hope he forgives me," Sansa whispered into her fur as Sweetie licked her face.

Sansa had Sandor's Wolves t-shirt and a pair of Sandor's boxers on. She wasn't going for glamour, but comfort and being wrapped in his clothing made her feel a bit more settled.

When the garage door opened, Sansa stood nervously in the kitchen, waiting for him. Sandor opened the door, and Sansa hardly gave him a chance before she launched herself into his arms. Thank god he caught her, arms that felt like steel bands wrapping her in his strong embrace.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Sansa sobbed into his chest.

"Hush little bird," Sandor said softly to her. "Come on, let's get comfy."

He carried Sansa to the couch, where she barely let go of him, cuddling on his lap as he cupped her face.

"Let me speak," Sandor said, his dark grey eyes stormy tonight.

Sansa opened her mouth, and Sandor kissed it again to give himself a chance to speak first.

"Please."

She nodded. “Alright, but I have things to say as well.”

Sandor gave her a grateful smile.

"I realized after our fight, that if I wanted a life with you, a real shot at something, there's some shit you need to know about my past. I don't know if I can get it all out tonight, but I want to try."

"Whatever you can, Sandor." Sansa knew this was a major, defining moment for them. Clearly, this was a night for sharing all his deep, dark secrets.

"My brother did this to me when I was six." Sandor pointed to his scarred face. The horrible image of that had Sansa biting her cheek so hard she drew blood, but she didn't say anything. She knew that Sandor needed to purge this out of his soul.

"I was in the living room, playing with a toy. He didn't even play with it anymore, some stupid action figure. And then he was just there, looming over me." Sandor stumbled a bit and sucked in a deep breath, lost in the memories.

Sansa cupped the flesh that had been ruined, and then pressed a soft kiss there. His big hand covered hers, so they were both touching his cheek.

"Sansa, I can still smell the burning of my flesh if I close my eyes. I screamed and screamed, but he just kept pressing my face to the radiator."

Sansa could help the sob that broke loose, digging her hands into the flesh of his arms, trying to anchor herself during the horrible picture he was painting.

"Shhh, baby, it was a long time ago."

Sandor held her as she sobbed.

"It's awful, Sandor. Awful. I'm so sorry."

Sandor pressed a kiss to her forehead, holding her as she cried for the little boy he was.

"My Dad was too drunk most days to notice when Gregor beat me. It got worse after my Mom got sick, and then when she died…"

Sandor clamped his mouth shut.

"It's ok, and it's enough." Sansa’s heart was physically aching for him.

Sandor shook his head. "I lasted just over three years after she died, and then he beat me so bad one night, I just ran away. I knew he’d kill me if I stayed.I somehow got three towns over and snuck into a rink in Ashemark. It was the only place I felt safe; it was the only thing I knew. No matter how poor we were, my Dad was obsessed with hockey, so I'd played since I was a four."

Sansa could see he was lost in the memories.

"I couldn't believe it when they took me in. I woke up every day thinking that today would be the day they drove me back to him. I went to bed each night, never believing that this was my new home. I never really opened up to them; not all the way."

"Oh gods, Sandor, you were an abused child. Of course, you didn’t. You were scared. You can't blame yourself."

Sandor smiled softly at her. "You're always going to be my champion, aren't you, little bird."

"Bet your ass, big guy."

Sandor chuckled softly at her.

"My whole life Sansa I knew what I was, where I came from. I never forgot about it. Even when the Marbrands took me in, I always worried it was temporary, that one day they'd just realize I was too much work and dump me back off at my Dad's place."

Sansa saw his eyes had a haunted look.

"I didn't even look him up until I was twenty-five, Sansa that's how much power he had over me. I was a successful pro athlete, and I was worried about what he might do to me."

Sansa pressed closer to him as he heaved out a ragged breath.

"Sandor, I'm so sorry. What happened?"

He snorted. "Found our he'd been dead for ten fucking years; cirrhosis."

"And your brother?"

"Jail." The darkness in Sandor's eyes told Sansa she didn't want to know more. They'd leave that for now.

"When I got drafted, it was like I finally believed I was somebody, something more than the son of a worthless drunk."

Sansa's heart broke for Sandor and the Marbrands. She knew that they loved him, and he'd been so broken it had been almost impossible for him to let them in.

"I knew it would be hard being back in Lannipsort. I won't lie, Sansa, it was my home for thirteen years. That rink, that ice, those guys, they were everything to me. I was pissed when they traded me. I didn't want to come North. It felt like a betrayal."

"I get that," she told him.

"And then the first time I saw you, I didn't think I stood a chance with you. So I lashed out."

She grinned.

"I still have a hard time trusting that I deserve good things, Sansa. My dating history is pathetic, I've hardly been in a real relationship, and up until a few hours ago, I'd never even asked the Marbrand's why they kept me."

"And why did they keep you, Sandor?"

He looked a bit stunned and then coughed. "Umm, because they love me. They think of me as a son, Sansa."

She knew this, of course, but she also knew Sandor needed to say it out loud.

"Mama B said she was worried if she pushed me too much, that I'd run away from them and then they'd have lost two sons." He choked out those last words.

"Oh god, Sandor," Sansa said, hugging him close, stroking the back of his neck as he finally broke down and cried in her arms. His entire body shook as he purged some of the horrors from his past. When he finally slowed, Sansa cupped his face and kissed him gently.

"I let Tywin get in my head, Sansa. You know what he said, and it was my greatest fear; hell, it probably still is. That one day, you'll see I'm no good for you."

"Sandor, stop." Sansa held his eyes. "Look at me, baby. Look at me. Do I look like I don't know exactly who you are? What you are? Where you came from?"

Sandor shook his head.

"And am I running away? Do I look scared? Or disgusted?"

Sandor shook his head. "No."

"Sandor, you're a survivor. Gods, do you know how incredible you are? How proud I am of you? How much you've overcome? You're a miracle, Sandor. A mother fluffing miracle, and you're mine. And I'm not giving up on you, or me or us. I love you."

Sandor's breath hitched. "I love you so fucking much, little bird, and it threatens to overwhelm me."

Sansa's eyes were bright and shiny, but she pushed on. He'd said his bit, and now she needed to say hers.

"I let you down tonight, Sandor. I should have realized what you were going through, what you were feeling. Instead, I reacted without any thought to your feelings. I'm sorry, and I hope you can forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," he mumbled.

"Sandor, there is. Please forgive me."

He sighed and nodded. "You're forgiven even though there is nothing to forgive. I'm not an easy man, Sansa. I won't blame you if you want out."

Sansa sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. She knew he was scared; that he'd revealed more tonight to her than probably anyone. He was bare before her, vulnerable and open. She stroked his cheek again, sitting on his lap, so she was facing him directly.

Her lips were soft and loving.

"You're not an easy man, Sandor. Your past is too horrific for you not to carry those scars, both physical and emotional. But," she said before his shoulders could slump. "You're worth it. You are one thousand percent worth the effort, the work. You have my heart, Sandor. Right now, right here. You have me. And you could shatter me, destroy me."

He held himself perfectly still. They were locked into one another.

"Choose me, Sandor. Choose us. Choose to work on this, to be in a relationship with me. Even though we know it's going to be hard and we'll have our fights, and things won't be perfect."

Sansa kissed him again.

"Say you'll try – that you want this as much as I do."

Sandor's big hands came up and carded themselves through Sansa's hair until he'd pulled her down, holding her against his body.

"No one has ever had as much of me as you do, Sansa. No one has been as deep. No one has had so much of my heart, so much of my trust. I'll always fucking choose you, little bird. Always. I fucking love you, Sansa. I'm here, baby. Through it all."

Then his lips were on hers, and she was sobbing and laughing, and the release of emotion threatened to swamp her. There was so much they still had to work on. This was just the beginning, but it was the best beginning because it had been raw and honest and real.

Sandor still her lips once more, a serious expression on his face.

"I spoke with the Marbrand's tonight, and I'm going to get some help, Sansa. Everything that's happened has made me realize that I have some shit to deal with. I want a future, Sansa, and not one in which I'm trapped in the past."

"Oh gods, I'm so proud of you, my love," Sansa said, kissing him again, hope washing through her. “I’ll be there every step of the way with you.”

She snuggled deeper into his arms and yawned.

"We need to go to sleep, Sandor. You have practice tomorrow afternoon, and my grandparents are arriving."

Sansa still wanted to tell him about her Mom and how awesome she'd been. She wanted to hear about his chat with the Marbrands in more detail. And she wanted to say mean things about Tywin until Sandor smirked and laughed. But right now, she wanted to go to bed and just fall asleep in his arms, happy that they loved one another.

"Let's go, sleepy bird," he chuckled, picking her up and carrying her upstairs.

She grumbled through her nightly routine, smiling when he slipped into brush his teeth beside her. Her heartbeat just a bit faster at that, each of them standing at their own sink. It was so… domestic, and she loved it.

She crawled into bed first, shutting out the light, and then felt him join her a few minutes later. She moved immediately into his arms, smiled when he dropped a kiss to her cheek.

"Night, little bird. Love you," he said in the low, raspy growl that Sansa loved.

"Night big guy. Love you too."

He squeezed her tighter and Sansa cuddled closer, knowing this was exactly where she was supposed to be; in the arms of the man that loved her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grandma Mini comes North and the first pre-season game at home

_ Sandor  _

Sandor felt like a million fucking dollars. The morning after their first fight and subsequent makeup session where they'd both said I love you, he'd woken up, with Sansa in his arms, his dog snoring on the bed and the knowledge that he had a family. It wasn't just the Marbrand's, although that was amazing, but the Starks as well. And Sansa. She was his family.

Something on his face must have informed Sansa of his good mood, because she'd shimmied down his body, licking at his tats, using her fingers to trace over the muscles on his chest and down lower, on his stomach until finally, she took his dick in her mouth. Sandor might have felt bad that she had gotten to him first, but when he sunk his fingers inside her, she was as wet as ever.

"Fuck baby, that feels good," Sandor moaned, loving her mouth on him. Then he got a wicked idea.

Quickly, Sandor had spun her, getting a little eep! Out of her as he settled her directly over his face so he could have her for breakfast while she sucked him off.

With climaxes like these, Sandor didn't have a complaint in the world. 

Later, both thoroughly sated, they'd showered, eaten breakfast and then taken the dog for a run. It had been the perfect morning with the woman he loved.

Sandor had cruised into Wintertown for afternoon practice, leaving Sansa and Brienne to go to the airport to pick her grandparents. Sansa had said that her grandma was a 'handful' and a 'colourful' personality. Sandor had snorted. The woman sounded like a dragon, but Sansa gushed about her and how supportive 'Mini' had been about her starting her career.

"She doesn't like to be called Mrs. Tully or Minisa, but Mini," Sansa told him, worrying that lip of hers. Sandor gave her a look, and Sansa shrugged.

"They're rich," she said by way of explanation of her grandma's behaviour. Rich people always acted like assholes in Sandor's experience, but he'd put up with it for his little bird.

The fact that the Tully's were rich might have worried Sandor in the past. Hell, it might have bothered him yesterday. But Sansa's words had penetrated Sandor's thick skull and his guarded heart. He believed her when she said that he was what she wanted; that he was good enough for her. And the good news was that Hoster and Minisa Tully did NOT live in the North. Sandor figured he could put up with them when they came North for visits and the holidays. The rest of Sansa's family liked him; that's what mattered.

Besides, Sandor had more significant problems than Minisa Tully. Ramsay Bolton would be back in Wintertown tomorrow night for their second to last pre-season game. The Saturday night game was against a team from the Saltpans, which didn't worry Sandor in the least. Sandor knew he wasn't the only person thinking about facing Bolton, and when he got to the rink early, Ned called him aside.

"Things good between you two?" Ned asked, a warm grin on his face. Sandor had never had a father of the woman he was dating like him before.

Sandor scraped a hand over his beard. "Yeah. They are." He swallowed and looked at Ned. "Thanks for everything you and Cat did. I appreciate it."

Ned rumbled out a laugh. "Ahhh Sandor, there's nothing quite like your first fight as a couple." Ned's grin got wider as he clapped Sandor on the back. "Besides, now I have an ally with my in-laws."

That wiped the smile from Sandor's face. "That bad?"

Ned shook his head. "I've been in love with my wife for over three decades, and I still don't know if Minisa likes me."

Sandor gulped. "What do I do?"

Ned winked. "She likes martinis." Then Ned was called away, and Sandor was left to ponder that tidbit of information.

He took out his phone and googled the perfect martini and got lost on the internet until an idea begun to take shape. Confident, Sandor dressed in his gear and hit the ice.

Ned ran them through a light practice, some work on the power play and then the penalty-killing units. With his huge shot and his defensive capabilities, Sandor played on both. He knew he logged serious ice time, and last year he'd been number two in minutes played in the entire league for the regular season. It was shaping up to be the same this season with the Wolves. It was one of the reasons Sandor took his fitness so seriously; he needed to have the endurance to log the big minutes on the ice.

His partner on d this year was Gendry, and they'd gotten to the point where they worked seamlessly together. Gendry was a good guy, and Sandor could see his game improving. Plus, he was strong as an ox and a great skater. The other defensive pairings were Jonny Umber, who was almost as large as Sandor and Tor Karstark and Jory Cassel and Clay Crewyn. Sandor knew they were strong as fuck on d, and he loved his boys that worked their asses off each night to protect Tormund in goal.

Sandor tuned into to what Coach was drawing up on the board.

"Tomorrow night, Bronn, you'll be left-wing, while Ric's right and Robb at centre."

Ned gave them all a serious look. "I know you all want blood tomorrow night, but shit that happens in pre-season games transfers to the regular season. We can't have hot heads out there tomorrow night getting suspended."

Everyone nodded, but there was a code in hockey. Sandor knew that Ramsay had violated that code with his dirty hit on Ric, and they all wanted payback. Still, they had to be smart. If there were total goons out there, they'd be suspended, and that would fuck the start of their season.

"You ok, Rookie?" Sandor asked Ric as they were doing some stick work.

Ric bobbed his head. "Yeah, man. I mean, I can't believe Dad, I mean Coach, put me on the starting lineup, but I know Bronn's got my back."

Bronn grinned. "Bet your ass I do." The man winked at Rickon and shared a knowing glance with Sandor. Bronn and Sandor had spent many, many games protecting Jaime Lannister when they'd played for the Lions. Now they'd protect Ric.

Once practice was over, Sandor showered and hopped in his new SUV. He loved it, and he texted Sansa that he needed to make a few stops, and then he'd be home.

**Sandor**: Need anything for tonight?

**Sansa**: Maybe a couple of bottles of wine. Do you mind?

She sent him pictures of what she wanted for dinner at her parents' place.

Did he mind? His woman was crazy.

Sandor wasn't Lannister wealthy, but he was in his fourteenth year as a pro-athlete and had some lucrative endorsement deals. He was well-positioned financially, which made him wonder about Sansa's business. Sandor remembered Ric saying she'd made millions from her make-up and YouTube channel, which was awesome. But Sandor was a bit old fashioned when it came to the role of a man and providing for a woman. He loved that Sansa was living at a house he had purchased and that, so far, she hadn't made too big a deal of him paying for shit. But he supposed the money talk was one they'd have to have.

**Sandor**: Don't mind, LB. See you soon

Then he set to work to get the shit he needed and get home to Sansa.

Sandor was whistling as he came through the garage door. Brienne and Sansa were at the kitchen table, and he watched as Sansa's eyes went wide. Sandor's arms were full of the biggest bouquet he could find.

"For me?"

She blushed prettily as if a man had never bought her flowers before. Sandor dropped a kiss to her lips.

"For you putting up with me being an ass," he told her, and Sansa swatted at him.

"Silly man, you weren't."

Brienne's face wasn't quite so sour, as if she were warming up to Sandor, so once Sandor grabbed a bottle of water, he looked at her. Sansa was busy fussing with the flowers, and Sandor made a note to bring her home presents more often.

"You going to give Giantsbane a chance?"

Brienne startled. "A chance? A chance at what?" She looked honestly confused.

Sandor shrugged. "A chance at a date with him."

Brienne sputtered while Sansa clapped her hands in glee.

"Oh my god, Sandor, are you serious? Does Tormund like Brienne?"

Sandor grunted and nodded, opening the fridge. He was starving after practice. Then he remembered his other purchases in the SUV.

"Be back in a moment," he told the two women and stalked back out to the SUV to haul in a box from the liquor store.

Sansa's eyebrow arched. "What did you buy?"

Sandor grinned, pulling out two bottles of white and three of red, along with an expensive bottle of gin, vodka and kina Lillet, along with a bag of lemons.

Sansa looked puzzled.

"Ned said your granny liked martinis. I thought I'd make her a Vesper."

Sansa sputtered. "Did you just call Minisa Tully, my granny?"

Sandor frowned. "Well, she is, isn't she?"

Sansa grinned, and it was a bit evil. "Oh yeah, tonight is going to be amazing."

Brienne wasn't coming with them; she was sticking close to the house with Ramsay back in the North. Renly was flying back in tomorrow morning to add extra security and Brienne was coming to the game as Sansa's guest and friend.

"So, back to Tormund," Sansa said, blue eyes dancing as Sandor pulled out chicken, vegetables and rice to make himself a pre-dinner meal. The man could certainly eat.

Sansa was sitting on a stool while Brienne leaned on the island, both women watching Sandor cook.

"Tell us what Tormund said," Sansa asked, throwing Brienne a knowing look.

"The man's a menace," the big woman muttered, but Sandor thought he saw a flare of interest there. And she looked… different.

"What's up with your face? And your hair?" Sandor said, no heat in his voice but curiosity.

Brienne coloured.

"We did a tiny, minuscule make-over," Sansa said proudly. Sandor thought Sansa was freaking adorable.

"Good job, little bird."

"So, stop changing the subject, babe. Tormund."

Sandor sighed as he slid the chicken into the hot pan. He took a long pull of his water. "He's mad for you, Brienne."

"Me?"

Sandor nodded, stirring the meat. "Yup. Crazy fucker won't shut up about you. Had to listen to him natter on and on the entire plane ride home."

Sansa pinned Brienne with a look. "I told you!" she cried triumphantly.

"There must be some mistake."

Sandor shook his head, noticing how Sweetie was lying at Brienne's feet. That was new. Brienne had never really shown any interest in his dog before.

Sandor added vegetables and then mixed the sauce.

"No mistake. The man thinks your babies would be huge and rule the hockey world."

Sansa spat out her wine, laughing as she pictured that. "Well, our kids won't be any pushovers either, if Tormund thinks he has that locked down. Sansan babies would be just as awesome at hockey as theirs!"

Sandor stilled, and Brienne, sensing this was a private moment, slipped out of the kitchen.

"Our kids?" Sandor asked quietly, watching as Sansa blushed and nodded nervously.

"Whew. Wow. Guess I really put the cart before the horse there, huh. We haven't even slept together, and I'm talking about our future hypothetical kids," Sansa stammered out.

Sandor stalked over to her, turning his food down, so it didn't burn.

"Sansa stop," Sandor said, standing directly in front of her, tilting her chin, so her eyes met his.

"You want kids?" He asked.

Sansa nodded. "Yeah."

Sandor paused, his throat feeling thick. "How many?"

As if sensing he wasn't upset, Sandor saw Sansa relax, and smile. "A whole bunch."

"Like, more than two?"

"Like at least four."

Sandor swallowed hard. "Four is good. Five might be better."

"Five is good. I could live with five."

They were lost in one another when Brienne's cough had them turning towards her.

"Stannis has some more information about Ramsay," she said and waved her phone.

Sandor grunted and finished cooking as Brienne's boss’s voice filled his kitchen. It turned out there were rumours in Ramsay's hometown about his treatment of his dogs, so much so that he was not allowed to own them. Since this had happened when he was a teenager, the records were sealed, but it didn't bode well when Sandor looked down Sweetie. He knew Ramsay had been the one to hurt her.

"Fucker," he muttered. He hated Ramsay Bolton.

"We'll get him, Mr. Clegane," Brienne said, and Sandor met her bright blue eyes. For the first time, Sandor felt like he and Brienne were on the same page.

"He's dangerous, Brienne."

"I know."

Sandor held her eyes, and when satisfied, nodded. "Call me, Sandor."

Sandor forced himself to eat, but his appetite was all but gone.

A couple of hours later, they were in Sandor's Mercedes as they cruised the few blocks over to Winterfell. Sandor was lost in his thoughts, worried more about Ramsay than meeting the Tully's. Brienne had stayed behind to keep an eye on the house and coordinate more with Stannis and Renly.

"You ok, babe?" Sansa asked, rubbing at his neck, which was tense and tight.

Sandor grunted. He wasn't fucking alright. Stannis's news had done nothing to bring his worry or his blood pressure down.

"I won't go anywhere without Brienne or Renly, Sandor. I promise."

Sandor brought their joined hands to his lips. "I know, baby. I know."

Sandor knew that Sansa understood how dangerous he was, and he knew she'd take no unnecessary chances. Still, he hated how much power Ramsay had to make their lives shitty.

Soon enough, they were walking inside Winterfell, where they were the first to arrive, other than Ric, whose eyes lit up when Sweetie came bounding through the house.

"What on god's green earth is that thing?" came a shrill voice.

"A dog grandma," Rickon answered.

Sansa rolled her eyes. "Grandma Mini has cats. Persians."

Sandor snorted as Ric called Sweetie and went into the backyard with her. His dog already thought of Winterfell as her second home.

Ned and Cat were there to greet them, and Sansa and Sandor could tell that Cat was tired.

“Thanks for your help yesterday,” Sandor whispered into Cat’s ear as he hugged her gently.

Cat cupped his cheek. "Always, Sandor."

He saw the truth in her eyes, and his chest warmed. In the space of a day, it seemed that the man who'd watched his mother die when he was eight, had gained two more. He thought briefly of his Mom then. She'd have loved Sansa, he was sure. And she would have been overwhelmed by a woman like Catelyn Stark. Even sick and battling cancer, the woman radiated class and elegance. Beth Clegane had loved Sandor fiercely, but she had been a maid that cleaned houses like Winterfell, not the lady of the manor. Still, Sandor thought that Cat would have welcomed her into her home, had she lived.

"I'll apologize in advance for my mother. She's a … handful," Cat managed to say before a striking older woman, with perfectly coiffed silver hair, and a tall, regal stance was standing there.

"Sansa, is that you?"

"Grandma Mini!" Sansa said. Even though Sandor thought she looked like a dragon lady that would skin puppies to make herself a coat, Sansa loved this woman. Sandor knew they were close so he would make an effort.

Sandor watched as they embraced before Sansa turned and tugged him forward.

"Grandma Mini, I'd like you to meet Sandor. Sandor, Grandma Mini."

Sandor wiped his hand before he held it out to shake hers. To her credit, Mini didn't even flinch but shook it firmly.

"You're a large one, aren't you. And your face." She tsk'd and shook her head. "What a shame."

"Mother," Cat said, pinching her nose, already looking exasperated.

"What? I am only saying what everyone else is thinking."

Sandor snorted. He liked honesty.

"Here," he said, holding out a gift bag. "I thought Sansa's granny would appreciate this."

Mini arched an elegant eyebrow at being called 'granny,' but Sandor wouldn't back down. With her expression, Sandor had any idea what Sansa would like when she was in her late sixties.

Mini opened the gift bag and frowned.

"It's for a Vesper martini. I was told you loved martinis"

Mini still said nothing.

Sandor shrugged.

"The Kina Lillet offsets the bitter taste of the gin giving it a hint of sweetness which seems to describe you to a T. Add a little lemon because I was told you were a bit sour, and you didn't strike me as the olive type."

Mini's lips twitched. "Oh, you'll do. Come along, Shrek. I'd like to try this Vesper. You can make me one." Mini snapped her fingers and expected Sandor to follow her to the kitchen. 

"Grandma!" Sansa hissed at her granny calling him Shrek! Sandor just thought it was hilarious. The old lady had some fire in her for sure. 

Mini just waved a hand as she latched onto Sandor and the bag of liquor, leading Sandor into the kitchen, chatting with him about the hockey team. Sandor glanced back at Sansa and winked, watching as his girlfriend shook her head.

Sandor didn't care what the fuck Minisa Tully called him, as long as she liked him.

The next few hours were fascinating for Sandor, watching Mini Tully essentially hold court. The woman had an acerbic tongue and a razor-sharp wit, and she held back for no one.

Thank fuck she loved the Vesper; she was two in already.

Arya and Gendry came tumbling into Winterfell, clearly having hit the gym after practice.

"Good gods, girl, go and shower. And perhaps try and find something feminine to wear. I know you hate to acknowledge it, but you are a young woman with some social standing."

Gendry looked scared shitless of the matriarch of the Tully clan and quickly went outside to hang with Ric.

When Robb showed up with Dacey, Mini turned her nose up at the sleeve of tattoos on Dacey's arm. "On a man, it's acceptable, but a woman? Robb, dear, I do hope this isn't serious."

Robb rolled his eyes and sent a warning glance to Sansa.

"Grandma, Dacey owns her own bar," Sansa interjected, knowing Mini's stance of a woman earning her way.

"A businesswoman. Impressive."

"Grandma, I love you but lay off of Dacey. I didn't bring her here for you to give her the third degree," Robb snarled, clutching tightly at Dacey's hand.

Mini sipped her martini (her third and Sandor wondered how she wasn't slurring her words, but like most rich old broads, she could hold her liquor) and took stock of Dacey and Robb.

"This is serious, then?"

"I haven't put out yet, and he's still hanging around," Dacey retorted, a defiant tilt to her chin.

Mini smiled at her and barked out a short laugh. "Good. I like a woman that knows her worth. Robb wasn’t acting like a Stark, chasing all those women."

"Didn't chase them, Grandma Mini. They came to me." Robb winked, which Sandor thought was idiotic as Mini ordered Sandor to make a Vesper for Dacey.

"How low brow of your Robb. Let's chat, my dear."

Sandor handed Sansa, Dacey and Mini each a drink.

"Sandor be a love and go check on my husband. He's deaf as a doorknob and probably lonely watching TV."

Sandor barely repressed a snort, thinking Hoster Tully was most likely having the best afternoon of them all. Sandor left the kitchen listening to the women chat about makeup, while Ric, Arya, Gendry, Robb and Ned were outside with Sweetie, having taken the chance to escape.

Hoster Tully was in Ned's chair watching football.

"She sent you in here?"

Sandor nodded as he stood, observing the man. Hoster Tully was one of the top five wealthiest men in the entire country, and he was here in Winterfell in sweats and a Wolves t-shirt watching football. The game was surprisingly low volume for a man that had a hearing problem.

"So, you're Sansa's new beau?"

Sandor nodded and held out his hand.

"I am, sir. Sandor Clegane."

Hoster leaned forward in his chair and shook Sandor's hand, eyeing him up critically.

"Think the Wolves have a chance this year?"

Sandor grinned. "I do, sir."

Hoster nodded. "Take a seat, son. Let's watch some ball."

Sandor sat, because what else was he going to do when Sansa's grandfather ordered him to, and it felt good to just relax for a moment. They sat in companionable silence for a time, watching the game. Sandor looked and saw the small hearing aids that Hoster was supposed to be wearing on the table beside the man.

Sandor cocked his head when he heard Mini say something about her other daughter, Lysa and her husband Jon and their divorce since Lysa had been caught in bed with someone named Petyr Baelish. Lysa and Petyr were older, in their late forties and apparently this was hot gossip. 

Hoster snorted, and he gave Sandor a knowing nod. "She's useless as tits on a bull that one, my daughter Lysa. She was married to a man that I could give my entire company to. Now I'm fucked since she needed to sleep with another man."

It dawned on Sandor that Hoster Tully wasn't deaf, and he threw his head back in laughter.

"How long has she thought you were deaf?"

Hoster grinned slyly. "Started a few years ago. A man can only be barked at for so long before he has to take serious measures to get some peace."

Sandor chuckled softly at the man. "Impressive. What happens when she finds out?"

Hoster waved a hand. "Oh, I'm pretty sure that she knows. We perpetuate the lie together. It saved our marriage."

Sandor shook his head and then got into an in-depth discussion with Hoster on hockey. He understood now why the man had agreed to Catelyn dating Ned. Hoster was a sports fan.

"Sandy!" came Mini's voice.

Hoster winked at Sandor. "Better go before the dragon gets here." He paused, then added, "Sandy."

"I could tell everyone your secret," Sandor growled. Only Mama B called him Sandy and got away with it.

Hoster winked. "You could, but you won't. Glad Sansa got rid of that waste of skin she was dating before. I expect a championship this year, Sandor."

Sandor grunted as Mini's voice picked up in pitch.

"Better go. She'll just track you down," Hoster said, grinning before turning the volume up on the football game.

"Oh, Sandy, there you are. Come along; we need more drinks," Mini said, gesturing to him.

"Yes, Duchess," he snarked back, rising and following her towards the kitchen.

Mini laughed. "Oh, I like you," she said again, and Sandor shook his head. He could smell the booze on her.

Sansa's family was nuts, but at least they seemed to like him. It could be a lot worse, and he realized as he poured three more martinis, Sansa snuggling close to him, bright chatter around the island as they ate appetizers and prepped for dinner.

Somehow, he'd been accepted. Ric and Robb came back in, and he could finally talk hockey with them. When dinner finally was served, Sandor watched in the awe as his girlfriend carried the conversation, making everyone feel welcome, including Gendry.

She was a wonder, and Sandor squeezed her hand underneath the table, earning him a radiant smile from her.

"Love you," she whispered.

"Love you too, little bird."

* * *

_ Sansa _

Sansa giggled as her grandmother grilled their waitress at the restaurant where they were currently having lunch. Minisa Tully was a force, of that there was no doubt.

"Dear, if you continue to scowl like that, no man will ever want you," Mini said, pointing to Brienne's face.

Renly and Stannis had both shown up this morning and were spending time with Sandor at the rink and the house, making sure things were safe with Ramsay being back in town. Sandor had lit up seeing Renly again, even though things between Sandor and Brienne had started to get slightly better.

"Who says I want a man?"

Mini shrugged. "Or a woman. It matters not, my dear." Sansa giggled into her wine as Brienne's face turned red. "My point is that a woman must work to make herself attractive to attract a mate."

"Mother, enough. Brienne is fine," Cat said, shaking her head at Mini.

"We all need help, Catelyn. Even me," Mini said, her ego healthy. "Do you think I look this good without paying close attention to my skin, my diet, my makeup?"

"I like men," Brienne blurted out, and Sansa felt for her bodyguard. Getting the third degree from Mini was rough.

"Grandma, enough. Brienne doesn't have to change a thing. She already has a man interested in her."

"Sansa," Brienne blushed.

"Who?"

"Tormund."

"The goalie?" Cat asked. She knew almost all the players on the team.

"Yup. Sandor says he really, really, really likes Brienne, but she hasn't said yes to a date with him, even though he's asked."

Their salads came, and Sansa saw Brienne frown at hers.

"Do you like this man?" Mini demanded, spearing a piece of kale.

Brienne sputtered. "I don't know. He's loud and brash."

"But so loyal and funny," Sansa inserted.

"And gainfully employed," Mini added.

"Ihaven'tdatedmuch," Brienne said in a rush as all three Tully-Stark women looked at her. Brienne's face was still beat red. She coughed. "I haven't dated much. What if he expects… things."

"Sex?" Mini asked. She shook her head and reached for Brienne's hand and squeezed. "My dear, no man should ask more than you're willing to give. And if he does, dump his ass. He's not worth it."

Sansa nodded sagely. "Sandor and I haven't slept together yet."

Then it was Sansa's turn to red as she realized what she'd just blurted out in front of her Mom and Grandmother.

"And he's not upset?"

Sansa shook her head and took a sip of wine. "Nope. He said when I'm ready, it'll happen."

Brienne seemed to be contemplating that statement.

"But he's such a …."

"Man?" Sansa's grin was huge. "Oh yeah, is he ever. But, underneath the muscles and the tats and the scowl, he's a sweetheart. And he's really gentle and so loving."

"I want great-grandchildren, Sansa. It's not like I'm getting any younger," Mini said, with a pointed look.

Sansa giggled. "He wants a big family as well, Grandma Mini."

"I had a crush on Renly for years. I didn't even know he was gay," Brienne blurted out.

"Oh, Hunny, that's awful," Sansa said, voice full of sympathy. Renly and Brienne were both thirty and had known each other in the Stormlands. 

"Renly is so refined and so handsome. And now that beast of a man likes me, and he makes me feel something," Brienne continued.

"Lust," Mini said with a wink.

"But he's so large and hairy and his mouth," Brienne said.

Sansa and Cat shared a look. As two women that had fallen in love with manly men, they knew how overwhelming it could be.

"What does it feel like when you are alone with him?" Cat asked gently.

Brienne coloured again. She was worse than Sansa.

"He's very focused on me, which is nice. And he doesn't seem like a liar. I don't think he's joking when he says he thinks I'm beautiful."

Cat, Mini and Sansa all frowned.

"Why would you think that someone saying you were beautiful was a joke?" Sansa asked.

"In high school, my name was Brienne the Beauty. And it wasn't because I was beautiful.” Brienne confessed that she had never, not once, ever been on a date with someone! 

Sansa reached for Brienne's hand and squeezed it hard.

"Sandor's scar doesn't take away his attractiveness, Brienne. I find him quite handsome and sexy, and even though I know, he struggles to see himself the way that I do."

"But what if it is just a joke?" Brienne whispered, voicing her deepest fear.

"Oh, Hunny, I don't think it is. Sandor says that Tormund is beside himself, trying to get your attention. I don't think Tormund dates very much, either."

"Go on a date and see what he's like. What's the worst you have to lose?" Mini said pragmatically as their entrees were delivered.

After that talk turned to the other Stark children, as the women gave Brienne a break.

When Sansa and Brienne walked into Sandor's house later, Brienne confessed she was excited for the game tonight. It had been decided that Brienne would go as Sansa's 'friend' and not lurk like her bodyguard.

Usually, Sansa would sit with either the hockey wives and girlfriends or in her family's box, but she wanted Brienne to get the full experience, so they'd gotten seats near ice level by Tormund's goal. Sansa knew she'd get two ends to watch Sandor on defence, and that was good enough for her. She'd be much closer to the action than sitting up high in a luxury box.

The two Baratheon brothers, along with Sandor, were in the kitchen when the women got home from lunch.

Sansa loved how Sandor's whole body relaxed the moment she was near him. He rose automatically to enfold her in his arms, tucking her against him.

"Good lunch?"

"Yup. When are you going for your pre-game nap?"

Sandor looked at the clock. "Soon. Join me?" His face was hopeful.

Sansa shook her head. "I'd love to, but I need to get another video posted. And promote the Wolves' game. So work for me."

Sandor pouted, and Sansa thought it was adorable, kissing his lip. "Go on. I won't be the reason your head isn't in the game."

Sandor's grey eyes lit. "Speaking of the game," he said and went and handed her a bag, where Sansa pulled out a jersey her size with the name Clegane and a #8 on the back.

"For you," he said, gruffly, and Sansa was keenly aware that the others were watching them.

"Oh my god, I love it so much," Sansa said, pulling it on. "OH MY GOD! I'm going to shoot my new video wearing it. This is going to be HUGE, Sandor."

She threw herself into his arms, and he scooped her up, carrying her out of the room. Sansa could see the need in his eyes and figured her video could wait for a bit.

She barely even registered the other's speaking as Sandor carried her upstairs and to their bedroom, where they spent an enjoyable half an hour together before Sansa finally, sated and limp, begged Sandor to get some sleep, his taste still in her mouth.

"Love you little bird," her guy mumbled as he cuddled her pillow.

"Love you, big guy," as Sansa snuck out of the bedroom, a huge, happy grin on her face.

* * *

_   
Sansa - Game Night_

Sandor had left two hours ago for the game. When he'd woken from his nap, he'd made himself his regular pre-game meal and spoke with the Baratheon brothers as well as Brienne. So far, Ramsay had flown in and stayed with the team.

"They're scheduled to leave right afterwards. They have a game tomorrow night in Highgarden," Stannis informed Sandor. He and Renly would be staying behind, at the house, in case something happened, but everyone thought the chances were slim. There was too much security around Sansa and Sandor now. It was more likely that something would happen on the ice, but Sandor had promised that he'd look out for Ric.

"We'll take care of it," was all he'd said, and no one doubted him.

Sansa had been able to make another video for her YouTube channel, wearing her new jersey and talking about hockey and the Wolves game. There was an excitement in Wintertown for the team this year. The hype was high, and she had no problem adding to it. Before Sandor had left, she'd taken another picture for her IG account, with the jersey and his big arms wrapped around her. He was getting to the point where he didn't even turn his face away to show his 'good' side.

And while there were a few trolls, people who claimed he was ugly, that he was a dog, overall, people loved the Hound, and they loved Sansa. #sansan was generating millions of hits, and Sansa was creeping ever closer to ten million followers.

Now that game time was approaching, Sansa was practically bouncing as she and Brienne made their way inside the arena. Her Mom, grandma and grandpa would be in their box, but tonight, she and Brienne would be down at ice level.

"I can't understand how you like the game so much," Brienne said, shaking her head at Sansa.

"I can't understand how you don't," Sansa replied.

They arrived just as the teams were taking the ice to warm up.

"Come on," Sansa said, dragging Brienne down to their seats. They could see the home bench, as well as the players, who looked huge on the ice.

Sansa inhaled. There was a smell about an ice rink. Sweat, cold, beer, popcorn, hotdogs, coffee. And something intangible that she couldn't even identify. She loved it. The arena, which held just under twenty-thousand people, was half full. Sansa knew many came just as the puck dropped, and the Zamboni would do one more ice cleaning before the teams started the game after warm up ended.

Sansa had a massive grin on her face as she watched the Wolves players circled the ice. As always, Sandor was skating opposite to most of them. He was so big, towering over the other players. He was tuned in, Sansa could see, flicking a puck, doing some stickwork. He was so good with his hands, Sansa thought, thinking of other ways that he used them on her. Sansa has never had a hockey player boyfriend, and the heady thrill of Sandor being hers hummed through her.

Then he lifted his head and saw her, and the smirk told her everything.

Cocky.

Arrogant.

Supremely in charge.

Sandor Clegane, the Hound, Captain of the Wolves, was on his ice. This was his barn, and no one, not even Ramsay Bolton was going to fuck with him here.

Sansa put her fingers in her mouth and whistled and shouted his name, almost jumping in excitement.

A few of the guys on the team jostled Sandor and pointed at her, but the big man just kept that smirk on his face. Sansa knew he was happy she was here.

"Why are they shooting on Tormund?" Brienne asked.

They had taken their seats, and Brienne's eyes were glued to the ice.

"Just getting him warmed up."

Sansa watched as Tormund kept glancing their way.

"Goalies are… different. For everyone else, they're out there, skating and trying to score. But the goalie is often either the hero or the goat of the game. They just need to be in a different zone and are often off by themselves."

"Well, that's not fair," Brienne protested, and Sansa smiled. Brienne was interested in Tormund, no matter what she said.

When the team had finished warming up, they filed off the ice, Sandor standing there and tapping each guy on the butt as they walked down the hallway to their dressing room.

Sansa jumped up from her seat and made her way over to the hallway, the security guard letting her get close to the edge. Everyone knew who she was.

Sansa was hanging over the edge of the railing just as Sandor stepped off the ice, a huge grin on her face.

"Hey, big guy."

"Hey beautiful," Sandor said, voice low and raspy.

He took his helmet off, sweat pouring down his back, and leaned closer to Sansa, so their lips were almost touching.

"Kickass, baby."

"Always, little bird."

Then Sansa leaned even further over the railing and kissed Sandor, loving when he kissed her back.

Of course, someone in the rink had been waiting for this moment, so it was on the big screen that hung over centre ice, the words SANSAN in brilliant colour there. A huge cheer erupted in the arena.

"Seven hells you're a menace woman," Sandor groused when he broke off the kiss, but there was no heat. Sansa could tell he liked that everyone knew she was his.

"Clegane, if you could stop kissing my daughter, we have a game to prepare for," Ned called, but he was smirking as well.

"Alright. Go be a hockey god, Sandor Clegane."

Sandor winked at her and then was gone leaving Sansa to go back to her seat and wait with Brienne.

"They'll start at this end, for the first period, so you'll be able to see Tormund," Sansa was explaining as the Zamboni cleared the ice. Sansa could feel the anticipation building in her. This wasn't a typical pre-season game. This was war.

When the Zamboni was done, the lights dimmed, and the team from Pyke skated on the ice. The fans there booed them as they always did the opposing team.

They stayed on their end of the ice, and Sansa shivered when she saw Ramsay.

"That him?" Brienne asked Sansa, voice low, following Sansa's eyes.

Sansa nodded.

By now, the building had filled, and the anticipation was palpable. Then the arena went utterly dark, and the music started as the announcer called the Wolves onto the ice. Just like everyone else, Sansa sprung to her feet, whistling and screaming at the top of her lungs, clapping as they poured onto the ice.

This is what she loved. The start of every game, not knowing what would happen in the battle to come. Sansa watched as Sandor skated with Ric, calming him down. There was a nervous grin on her youngest brother's face as he took the ice for the first time in front of his hometown crowd, but Sandor was there for Ric.

Sandor touched his helmet to Tormund's, patting the goalie on the ice as all but the starters went to the bench.

"And now, the starting line-up for your Wintertown Wolves!!!!!!!"

"Starting in goal, number thirty, Tormund Giantsbane!"

A huge cheer went up for the popular goalie, who was staring at Brienne. Brienne, for her part, gave him a little wave, and the hairy redhead grinned.

"Starting on the left-wing, number twenty-five, new to the team, Bronn Blackwater." Bronn was known throughout the league as a grinder and a guy that stood up for his teammates, so even though he was new, his cheer was loud.

"At centre, from Wintertown and your assistant captain, Robb Stark!!!!!!"

Robb was a crowd favourite and always got a big cheer. Sansa knew that Dacey wasn't here tonight. Her bar would be packed since it was the first game of the season at home.

"On the right-wing, in his rookie season, please give it up for Rickon Stark!!!!"

Ric gave a big smile and got a huge cheer. They'd been talking about how talented he was for years, and now he was here, in the big league playing his first game.

"On defence, number four, Gendry Waters," the announcer said.

Sansa watched as Sandor swayed back and forth on his feet. He was holding his stick in one hand and his helmet in the other, and his face was intense. Sansa glanced and saw that he was glaring at Ramsay across the rink.

"And now, introducing your captain for the 2019/2020 Wintertown Wolves season, the reigning league MVP and defence of the year, Sandor, the Hound, CLEEEEGANNNNNEEE!"

Absolute pandemonium broke out in the arena when Sandor's name was announced, and he gave a little wave to the crowd. Sansa wondered if he had any idea how much the people up here loved him already. He hadn't even played a shift in front of this crowd, and they were already on their feet for him.

Then the music started, and the lights came back up. Of course, the camera found Sansa, who was still clapping and whistling, catching her wearing Sandor's jersey and another huge cheer.

"The head coach for the Wolves is Ned Stark, assistant Rod Cassel."

The five starters skated around again before the ref blew his whistle, and everyone lined up.

Sansa thought her heart might beat out of her chest, watching her brothers and her man line up to play Pyke. Then the puck was dropped, and the game started, and Sansa grinned, leaning forward, so she didn't miss a thing.

* * *

"Oh my god, are you blind, ref?" Sansa screamed, frustration lacing her every word. "He was tripped first," as Jory Cassel was assessed a two minute minor for interference.

"Pathetic," Sansa said, sitting down, shaking her head at the call.

"Come on, big guy," Sansa was whispering, watching at the penalty kill unit came on the ice. It was Sandor and Gendry, with Jon and Bronn.

They were ten minutes into the first period, and it had been a tight, defensive match. So far, Ramsay had done nothing wrong, and Sansa knew that this penalty was the last thing the Wolves needed.

"Tormund is most vulnerable now," Sansa explained to Brienne, who, despite herself, was getting into the game.

"Why?"

"They get an extra attacker," Sansa explained to Brienne. "It's up to his penalty killers to get the puck out of our end. No icing, either, so that means they can shoot it down the ice as often as possible."

Sansa didn't catch on that Brienne had no idea what she was talking about, as the play had started. Sansa took her hockey seriously, and she was watching the game.

Ramsay was circling, and as much of a creep as he was, Sansa couldn't deny his skill. Things looked dicey until Sandor plastered him with a clean hit into the boards, and the crowd went wild.

"Good job, BABY!!!!" Sansa screamed, pumping her fist. The people seated around them had quickly realized who she was, and they were delighted by her and her antics.

The love for Sansan was strong in the North.

Bronn cleared the puck, and the crowd cheered, as the next set of penalty killers came on the ice. They killed that penalty and then went back on the offensive, but they were unable to solve the Pyke goalie, so the period ended with the score still 0-0.

Sansa said she needed to use the bathroom, so Brienne stuck with her, and they grabbed a coffee on the way back to their seats. Of course, what was unexpected was how many times Sansa was stopped and asked for an autograph. She blushed but happily posed for pictures with fans, who promised to add the hashtag #Sansan to all their photos.

"Oh my god, Pod is going to kill me," Sansa said, giggling as they got settled in for the second period.

The second period started much like the first, and Sansa was getting a bit nervous for her team. They needed to score. Tormund was playing so well, but how long could he keep it up?

Ric, Robb and Bronn were on the ice, with Umber and Karstark on defence. Sansa saw it as it happened. Ric was in the corner, digging out a puck when Ramsay skated towards him.

Sansa held her breath as Ric looked up and saw Ramsay. He pivoted and got himself in a position to take a hit. Still, it was late, as Ric had already gotten rid of the puck. The ref's hand went up to indicate a penalty for Ramsay when Bronn was there.

They were right in front of Sansa and Brienne, so Sansa could hear everything that he was saying.

"What the fuck was that you cunt?" Bronn snarled, and Ramsay smirked.

"Hockey, asshole."

"Keep the rookie out of it."

"What are you going to do?"

Bronn shoved him, and Ramsay swung at Bronn, until the two men were in a scrum, and everyone else piled on.

Sansa was on her feet, yelling at Pyke players when Ramsay's head turned, and he smiled at her, even with Bronn's arm around his neck.

A shiver snaked down Sansa's spine, and suddenly the air went out of her as she sat down.

"I'm here, Sansa. He'll never get close to you," Brienne said quietly, intensely watching as Ramsay was escorted to the penalty box. In the end, the Wolves ended up with the powerplay, and fifty-six seconds in, Sandor's booming shot from the point found the back of the net and Sansa surged to her feet, happy for her guy.

Still, that look by Ramsay had put a pall on the night for her. She just wanted him to go away.

The Wolves got two more goals in the second period, so they were up 3-0 going into the third.

"Ms. Stark, you're needed in the dressing room," an usher said to Sansa. Confused, she rose with Brienne on her heels and made her way towards where the Wolves dressing room was. Sandor was standing there, impossibly huge, almost 7 feet tall with his skates on. Sansa rushed up to him and stopped glancing up to him.

"Hey, baby, how you holding up?" he asked her, worry in his voice.

"Did you see?"

Sandor grunted. "Yeah, little bird. Bronn said the fucker was talking about you as well."

"I hate him, Sandor."

"I know."

Sansa heaved out a sigh. "Keep it together, though. The last thing I need is for you to be suspended. We're trending again on social media."

"Yeah?"

She nodded. Then she shrieked as Sandor picked her up and kissed her, and placed her back on the ground.

"Twenty minutes to go, babe. Then we'll head home."

"You're playing amazing, Sandor. Go get it done."

One last sweaty kiss and Sandor turned back into the dressing room, leaving Sansa and Brienne to find their way back to their seats.

"How are the Baratheon brothers?" Sansa asked.

Brienne showed Sansa a picture of Stannis sitting on the couch with Sweetie pressed up against him.

"Aww," Sansa said, loving her dog. "That's adorable."

Brienne frowned. "Yes, I've never seen Stannis act like this."

"What's the story between them?"

Sansa knew that Robert, the eldest brother, was married to Cersei Lannister, a famous actress. Years ago, Robert and her father had been close, but when Cat and Cersei never got along, that friendship faded.

"Stannis is quite stern. When Robert married Cersei and moved to King's Landing, he abandoned Renly, who was only twelve at the time to the care of Stannis and his wife, Selyse."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

Brienne sighed. "No, it wasn't. I mean, the way that Renly tells it, Stannis gave him all the basics. But he wasn't a warm man."

"Stannis?" Sansa sounded a bit skeptical. He came across as extraordinarily professional, but she'd heard him talk with his daughter, and there was a warmth in his voice. And he was awesome with Sweetie.

Brienne shrugged. "I don't know the whole story. I do know that they are closer now since Stannis got divorced. I don't think Selyse and Renly ever got along."

Sansa hummed, thinking about the two Baratheon men. It was true that they were quite different, but she wouldn't say that Stannis was a cold man. And she had to admit she felt better with them providing security for her and Sandor.

Since it was only a pre-season game, and the Wolves were firmly in control, Sansa watched as her. Dad gave the third and fourth line more ice time in the third period. Things were going smoothly to the point where Sansa took out her phone and checked her Instagram account. Sure enough, many people had uploaded the pictures she'd taken with them. She smiled at the happiness on her face as she posed with Wolves' fans. She loved being home, being in the North.

Sansa looked up in time to see Ramsay streaking towards the net, puck on his stick. He was on a partial breakaway and not slowing down. Sandor wasn't on the ice and a glance at the bench, and she knew that he saw what she did. If he kept this up, he'd run right into Tormund.

"Mother fluffer," she whispered, watching in horror as Ramsay crashed into Tormund, making no attempt to get out of the way of the Wolves' goalie. It was evident to everyone in the rink that Ramsay had intended to hurt Tormund.

Brienne shot to her feet, a worried look on her face as Tormund lay motionless on the ice.

Grenn immediately jumped Ramsay, pinning him to the boards as the man grinned, knowing he'd dealt a blow to the Wolves season. If Tormund were seriously injured, he'd be impossible to replace. The refs were there, breaking Grenn and Ramsay up and escorting Ramsay to the box for another two-minute penalty, while Arya hurried across the ice to tend to Tormund. The rink was silent as everyone waited to see.

Arya waved Sandor and Jonny Umber over, as Tormund began to move. Sansa knew his night was done. At the very least, they'd put Tormund in concussion protocol, and with only seven minutes left in the game, he wouldn't see the ice again. With Tormund being helped off the ice by Sandor and Jonny Umber, Ned was losing his shit on the refs.

"It was clear intent to injure!" Ned was practically spitting.

Their backup, Lawrence Hornwood skated on the ice, and everyone was tapping him on the pads. The game was well in hand, but no one like to come in when there had been an injury.

Sansa watched as her Dad turned to Sandor. "Lock it down out there, Clegane. Bolton's back on the ice in two minutes and I want him hit every single time he touches the fucking puck."

Sandor nodded then looked to Ric. "And him?"

Ned grimaced. "I'll give him some power playtime, but I won't risk him. Bolton has nothing to lose. At least the league will review that hit.

Sandor nodded and skated to take his place with Gendry, Bronn, Robb and Ric. They made the team from Pyke pay within the first thirty seconds, with Robb tipping a shot from the point in.

After that, it was open season on Ramsay, as player after player from the Wolves team hit him every time he had the puck. Rickon never played another minute, and when the final buzzer went, the Wolves had a 5-0 victory. It felt hollow since no one knew Tormund's status.

Sansa and Brienne waited in their seats, knowing that the guys would be a while as the arena emptied.

Cat had texted Sansa that she was headed home with Mini and Hoster and that she'd see Sansa tomorrow.

"So, what did you think of your first game?" Sansa asked Brienne as they finally made their way down the tunnel and into the hallway where the dressing room was. A few other wives and girlfriends were waiting. Further back, closer to the exit, Sansa could see the bunnies. They were so blatant with their tight tops and painted on jeans.

"It was interesting. Less violent than I thought. I'll give the players credit, and it takes talent."

Sansa hummed her agreement, nodding as players began trickling out.

Theon barely acknowledged her, which seemed odd, and hurried down the hallway towards the exit. The more Sansa thought about it, the more unusual that seemed. She wondered what that was about. They'd always been friendly, but this season, something was off with him.

Jeyne and Wyn joined Sansa and Brienne and talked about what had happened. They had been sitting in different seats together. Sansa realized it had been a week since she'd spoken with her friends, and they had some serious catching up to do.

"So ladies, spill the beans about Jon and Bronn."

Both women smiled.

"There is no Jon and Wyn," Wyn said, tossing back her dark curly hair.

Sansa snorted. "He's not a bad guy, Wyn. And you're waiting for him."

"We're headed over to visit Dacey at the bar – as a group. You guys coming?"

Sansa shook her head. "Nope. Heading home. We have the dog."

Wyn and Jeyne shared a glance. "Ok, we need a girls' night to catch up. Soon Sansa Stark, you'll be heading home cause there is a baby. You two are so in love with one another."

Sansa blushed but didn't deny it. They were so in love, and they clearly both wanted a life together that included a whole boatload of kids.

"And, Bronn?"

Jeyne shrugged. "He's an asshole, but he's my asshole if that makes any sense."

Sansa nodded sagely. It did, funnily enough.

Robb, Jon and Bronn were the next out, and since all three were headed over to the _Sin Bin_, they said hi to Brienne and Sansa and then disappeared with Sansa's friends.

Sandor poked his head out and called Sansa and Brienne into the dressing room. There was only Ric, Gendry, Jory Cassel, Sandor and Tormund left, along with the coaches. Tormund was snarling as Arya was holding an ice pack to his head.

When Brienne entered, Tormund shut up, still scowling and glared at Sandor.

"If you won't fucking listen to Arya, perhaps you'll listen to her," Sandor said, jerking a thumb at Brienne.

Brienne arched an eyebrow at Sandor.

Sandor rolled his eyes.

"Stupid fucker has a concussion. He needs observation. I offered a spare room at my house, knowing you, Stannis and Renly are there. I figured between the five of us, and we can look out for him."

Brienne nodded and then glanced back at Tormund. "I think that's a good idea."

Tormund looked slightly stunned that Brienne agreed.

"It wasn't right what he did to you. That play. I don't know much, but I know that was wrong."

Sandor snorted but was hushed by a glare from Sansa.

Tormund's whole face lit up.

"I'm ok. I'm tougher than I look."

"No, you're not," Arya argued. "You need to follow my instructions. You're not playing tomorrow night. Hornwood can start."

Tormund rolled his eyes.

"Can you drive him home?" Arya asked Sandor, who nodded.

"Yeah. Get your shit and let's go, Wildling."

"I'm not a fucking child," Tormund groused, but stomped to his feet, grabbing a bag.

"Then quit fucking acting like one," Sandor snarled back at him.

The two of them were still swiping at each other as Brienne and Sansa followed them out of the rink and into the parking lot. Sansa had parked beside Sandor in spots reserved for the team and the WAGs.

They all stopped short when they saw what was waiting for them.

Leaning against her car was Ramsay Bolton.

"Dog, it looks like you've got your bitch some friends," he said, smirking.

Brienne had her phone open, calling the police. Ramsay was in clear violation of his restraining order to stay away from her.

Sandor didn't want to risk leaving Sansa to go after Ramsay, so he just squeezed her hand.

"Police are on their way," Brienne muttered.

When Ramsay heard the wail of the sirens, he stepped back and held up his hands.

"I was never here," and then dashed towards the team bus, which took off as soon as he boarded. When the cops peeled into the parking lot, they said there wasn't much more they could do, other than get the police in Pyke to find him in contempt of court and bring him back here to face the judge that had issued the restraining order in the first place.

"It's a lot of work. Are you sure, ma'am?" one officer asked. "He didn't do anything to you or your vehicle. Maybe it was a misunderstanding."

Sandor snarled at him.

"I'm sure," Sansa said, voice steady. "It's why we had the order in the first place. Either you get him, or they do, but I won't drop this. That man is a menace."

"Sansa Stark is being stalked by that man. Do your jobs," Brienne spat at the two officers. "My boss will expect a report by morning."

"Who's your boss?"

Brienne smiled, and it was full of the promise of retribution if they didn't deliver. "Stannis Baratheon."

Stannis's reputation proceeded him wherever he went in Westeros. The man was a legend in the security and personal protection business. Both police officers swallowed hard.

"Officers is there a problem?" came Ned's voice. He was standing there with Rickon.

Sansa told her Dad that Ramsay had been leaning against her car when they exited the arena. Ned Stark took out his phone and made a few phone calls until he was speaking with the Chief of Police in the North, Howland Reed.

With a few short, perfunctory sentences, Chief Reed promised to have Ramsay Bolton before a judge on Monday morning.

"This man is stalking my daughter, Chief. I expected better from the Wintertown police." Sansa didn't quite catch what was said, but Ned's smile back to the two cops promised they would have an awful Friday night.

"Come on, little bird, let's go home," Sandor said. Sansa threw her keys to Brienne, who said she'd drive Tormund, sensing that Sandor needed some time with Sansa. And they were all going to the same place, so they would talk once they got to the house.

"Seriously, guys. You're going to let someone drive Sansa's car?" came Ric's voice.

All the adults turned to look at him. He gave a nervous laugh.

"It's like a classic set up from a movie. Bad guy lingering outside, does something to the car, car crashes when stupid people drive it."

Sansa's face paled. "You think he did something to my car?"

Ric shrugged. "I don't know, but he knew it was yours. And he was standing against it. I'd have someone check it out before anyone drives it."

Sansa felt sick, but one look at everyone's faces and she knew her car would need a thorough going over. Ric was right. She couldn't take any chances.

Brienne looked upset that she hadn't even considered the possibility, but Sansa waved a hand. "Honestly, only eighteen years old's that have watched too many bad action movies and psychos think like that," Sansa said as all four of them piled into Sandor's big SUV.

Sandor's jaw was locked, and Sansa could feel the anger radiating off of him. Any good feelings from the game were long gone. Tormund was hurt, her car might be tampered with, and Ramsay had violated the restraining order, seeming to not care about it at all. It was clear that he hadn't given up on his quest to hurt either her or Sandor and Sansa had to wonder what else Ramsay might try. Everyone had thought he'd go for Ric tonight, but instead, he'd chosen another target and one of Sandor's best friends on the team. It was his unpredictability that made him so dangerous, and Sansa knew that Sandor was feeling helpless. Her guy was big on the whole, protecting what was his.

Sansa said nothing, just rubbing at the tense muscles in his back. When they pulled into the garage, they exited into the house quickly and debriefed. For once, Sandor didn't even seem jealous as Stannis took over. Instead, he looked grateful to have the man here.

"I'll follow up with Chief Reed tomorrow. And I'll work on getting someone I trust to look over Sansa's car. This was a mistake. At the very least, the judge will probably charge him with a misdemeanour, which takes this from being merely a potential issue to a real crime."

Sandor grunted. "He's escalating."

Stannis held his gaze. "It appears that his time in Pyke did not diminish his fixation on either you or Sansa."

"Fuck," Sandor growled and stalked from the room.

Sansa shot them all a smile. "Brienne, can you show Tormund the spare room. There's one left." The other three were taken by those from Baratheon security.

"I will."

Sansa found Sandor standing in their walk-in closet, tearing at his tie.

She wrapped her arms around him, and he stiffened for a moment before he dragged her closer.

"Fuck, Sansa, he scares me."

"He scares me too."

Sandor smelled clean with just an underlying hint of sweat from his exertions on the ice tonight.

"Let's go to bed, Sandor."

They undressed each other and crawled in; Sansa cradled in his strong arms.

"It's my job to keep you safe."

"I know. And you've done everything possible, Sandor. He'll mess up and end up in jail," Sansa said. Sandor had done everything he could, short of hurting Ramsay himself, and that was the last thing Sansa wanted.

"I liked seeing you in my jersey tonight," Sandor whispered in her ear, desperate to have one happy memory of tonight. It was the first time any woman other than Mama B had worn his jersey.

Sansa twisted in his arms, a grin on her face. "We were the number one hashtag on twitter."

Sandor rolled his eyes, loving it when she punched him lightly in the chest.

"Oh, stop. People love us, Sandor."

"I love you."

Sansa melted. It never got old hearing those words from his lips.

"And I love you."

“We’ll get through this stuff with Ramsay, Sandor. Together.”

Sandor grunted.

“I just want you, safe, Sansa. That’s all that matters.”

Sansa felt the tears well in her eyes. “I know baby, I know.”

She snuggled deeper in his arms, grateful for the extra security and protection in her life, and this man, this big, strong man that loved her and would do everything in his power to keep her safe. Sansa didn’t even want to think about what Ramsay might have done, had Sandor not been here. As Sansa felt herself drift off to sleep, Sandor pressed a kiss to her neck, and whispered, “I’ll keep you safe, little bird. No matter what.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Marbrand's arrive and some good Sansan stuff

* * *

_ Sandor _

Sandor shuffled his feet nervously as he stood beside Sansa at the Wintertown airport waiting for the plane from Lannisport to land. Sansa had come to practice with him this morning, and Ned had given the entire team the afternoon off, knowing that they were riding on nerves with the opening weekend upon them.

As Sansa squeezed Sandor's hand and shot him a reassuring smile, Sandor thought back to the past six days.

He'd woken up last Saturday morning with Sansa's warm mouth on his dick and had been pleasantly riding that experience out when Tormund and Brienne's argument had escalated to the point that Sansa was worried they would do something to harm one another and had stopped sucking him off and was glancing worriedly at the door.

Sandor had stormed out of bed and threw on a pair of sweats.

"For fuck sakes," Sandor had snarled, opening his door and glaring at the two of them. "What the fuck is going on?"

Brienne stiffened and then straightened to face him. Sandor had to give the woman credit; she didn’t back down, even to him.

"He's dizzy and wobbly, but insisting he can do the stairs himself."

Sandor rolled his eyes at his teammate.

"Take the help, Wildling."

"I don't need her help. I'm a man."

Brienne snorted. "A man that suffered a concussion less than fourteen hours ago. Don't be an idiot. I can help you."

Tormund turned his tortured eyes to Sandor. Sandor shook his head at him.

"What the fuck is your problem? You've been chasing her for weeks. Now she's offering to touch you, willingly, and you're balking at it."

Tormund straighter. "I've got my pride, dog."

Sandor barely refrained from rolling his eyes as he stomped over and threw his arms around Tormund's.

"You fucking owe me. Big time," Sandor muttered, and Tormund's eyes danced.

"Did I interrupt something between you and the one who is kissed by fire?"

Sandor snarled. He didn't like it when Tormund spoke about Sansa that way. Sansa was his and all this Wildling’s shit about _kissed by fire_ and _gingers are the best_, got to him.

When he finally got Tormund downstairs on and the couch, he looked at the big man. "Call Arya. You need to be checked out."

Brienne said a stiff thank you, and Sandor reached out and stopped her. "Was he an ass last night?"

Brienne coloured and shook her head. "No, not at all. I mean, his mouth never stops, but he was a perfect gentleman."

Sandor nodded. "Good."

Sandor heard Renly and Stannis in the kitchen, so he sprinted back upstairs, disappointed when Sansa emerged in work out gear.

"Later big guy," she told him and then was gone. Growling, Sandor chucked on some work out pants and a Wolves t-shirt. It appeared his morning blow job was long gone. One more reason Sandor never liked having a roommate. But he knew that he was stuck with Tormund until he was better.

The rest of the weekend was much the same; a steady and constant stream of people in and out of his house. First, it was Rickon, Arya and Ned that stopped by to check on Tormund. It was determined that he couldn't even back up Hornwood tonight, so Ned left to call someone up from their affiliate team. That had pissed the Wilding off to no end, but Arya hadn’t budged.

Ric, being the awesome human he was, had volunteered to hang with Tormund, who could only really watch television, as Sweetie curled up on the big man. Sandor had left them all as he’d went through his pre-game routine, while Sansa ensconced herself in his study, working with Royce down south.

That night the Wolves had skated to a tie with the team from the Saltpans, and Sandor knew it was because Tormund was sitting on his couch at home. He was their best damn goalie, and Ramsay had fucked them when he’d hurt him last night. It left a bitter taste in Sandor’s mouth, and increased his hatred of the man even more, especially after what Sandor and Sansa had learned earlier from Stannis.

That morning, after Sandor had left Tormund with the Starks, Stannis pulled Sandor and Sansa aside to say that nothing had been done to any of the vehicles.

That was both a relief and troubling, because it seemed Ramsay’s game was more psychological than actual physical harm.

"I did some more digging. Roose Bolton is a reasonably big deal in Dreadfort. He is the majority owner of two casinos out there and has turned the entire city into some type of weird indulgent adult playground. There are several strip clubs, brothels and other 'adult' type entertainment options and very little oversight. It appeared he has some deep-pockets backing him," Stannis said, distaste clear in his voice.

"He sounds just as icky as his son," Sansa said, wrinkling her nose adorably.

"I fear they are both quite intelligent. He has another son, one older than Ramsay, and he's Roose's, right-hand man. So far, everything is legal, but just barely."

Sansa nodded, reaching for Sandor's hand. He held it tight in his. He hated all of this.

"What does this mean?" Sandor asked.

Stannis met both their eyes. "I wouldn't count on anything coming from him breaching his restraining order. I wouldn't be surprised if Roose has his lawyers argue that Ramsay was there to make amends, to apologize. And it'll be his word against yours. With nothing done to any of your vehicles physically, how can we argue that?"

Sansa sighed. "Son of a nutcracker, he's smart."

All three men looked at her with varying degrees of adoration. Sansa did her level best not to swear, and her creative language was just one more aspect that Sandor loved. 

Stannis's words turned out to be prophetic. Monday afternoon, they received the phone call that Roose had sent his high profile lawyer to argue that Ramsay was trying to 'make amends' and hadn't understood his actions were a violation of the order. He'd ended up with a slap on the wrist and a 'reminder' not to contact Ms. Stark.

His little bird had been pissed. Sandor had been more than pissed; he’d been enraged. He knew that Ramsay was just playing with them.

Stannis and Renly left Monday evening and promised to do more digging on the Bolton's; the entire family was 'pinging' on Stannis Baratheon's radar, and the man was like a dog with a bone – relentless. Sandor was glad that he had Stannis on his side because anyone who crossed Stannis Baratheon would rue the day.

After the Baratheon brothers had left, Sansa had gotten quiet and slipped out to the back deck, curled up with a blanket and a faraway look on her face.

When Sandor joined her, she kept her mouth shut, which was unusual for her.

"How much is this costing you, Sandor?"

He startled a bit, then grabbed her legs and put them on his lap, massaging her calves. His first instinct was to tell her it didn't matter and that he had it covered. He had more than enough money to have security on her for the rest of their lives if needed. Not that either one of them wanted that.

And he was a man, and he liked taking care of her; including financially. But he could see the tension radiating off her, so he told her. The number didn’t bother him at all but she cringed.

"Oh gods, I'm so sorry. You have to let me pay for some of this. I had no idea what this was costing."

Sandor frowned, and Sansa's back stiffened. He knew he was in boggy territory and didn't want to fuck this up.

"Can you let me explain some things?" he rumbled out, his voice low and raspy. Sometimes it got that way, from the damage that had been done so long ago. And when his emotions were heightened.

Sansa nodded and relaxed slightly as if realizing they weren’t going to fight about this but talk it out.

"For a long time, Sansa, I never thought I'd have anything like this. A chance at a family, a normal girlfriend. A life. A home. I saved and invested my money, so I'm comfortable little bird. If I got hurt tomorrow, I wouldn't have to work a day more in my life as long as I'm not a total idiot with my money."

She cocked her head and stroked his arm, and he was grateful she didn't say anything. Sandor didn’t always speak a lot, but when he got going, he often found it hard to shut up.

"My Dad was always good with his hands. He had jobs when I was really young, as a mechanic. But he was a drunk, and he lost them more often than not. My mom worked her hands raw, cleaning rich people's houses, so we had food and clothes. I promised myself if I was ever in a position where a woman loved me, I'd take care of her."

"Oh Sandor," Sansa sighed, and he saw how much she loved him.

"But," he ground out, "I know you are successful in your own right. Rickon spilled how much money you made last year."

She blushed, and Sandor thought it was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. He felt a weight lift from his chest. Maybe he wasn't shit at relationships after all.

"Ever worry I'm just looking for a sugar mama?" He winked at her and whatever tension was between them, broke.

Her laughter was bright and contagious, and she crawled into his arms, pressing her lips to his.

"You are everything to me, and I love how you want to take care of me. But I want a true partnership, Sandor. I'm all in, in this relationship, baby. Money, house, kids. All of it."

He nodded, understanding lighting his eyes.

"And he makes me feel weak and helpless, which I hate. So I want to help pay for security, and I don't want you to get upset about that."

Sandor tilted Sansa's lips so he could kiss her again.

"Fair enough, little bird. I'll tell Stannis to bill you half."

She grinned and fused her lips to his, and Sandor was shocked that allowing her to pay for half of this made her happy. So many women had used him for his money. But not Sansa. She was the exact opposite of so many of them.

She curled up in his arms, both of them happy to have some space from Tormund and Brienne in the crisp fall night.

"So how much money can you make in your career?" Sandor asked after a time, curious.

Sansa laughed. "There is the one woman who also has her own make-up brand and online following and her personal net worth right now is approximately six hundred million."

Sandor stilled. "Fuck sakes, are you serious?" He had no idea there was that kind of money in what Sansa was doing.

Sansa giggled. "There is a huge mark up on make-up Sandor. And my YouTube channel is more popular than ever. Her focus was more on Instagram and mine on YouTube, and she started a few years before me. But," Sansa paused and looked at him, "I think if I work hard and follow my instincts and listen to what people want from me when it comes to my products, that I could be as big as her one day."

"Fuck me," he muttered. "And you'd still want a dumb hockey player like me?" Sansa could be dating royalty.

"Oh gods, Sandor. Yes, of course. I love what I do. I mean, it's awesome that I can make such a good living at it, but money isn't what drives me."

He grunted. "Sometimes I've thought of setting up a charity," he told her, totally vulnerable right now. He'd die if Sansa mocked him. He’d never told anyone his ambitions beyond hockey and winning.

She arched her eyebrow. "What for?"

He shrugged. "Maybe for battered women. Or children. A safe place they could go."

Sansa's eyes bloomed warm blue, and he hugged her tighter. "Oh my god, you are like the perfect man," she whispered into his good ear as she hugged him tightly.

"It's not a big fucking deal, little bird," Sandor said, but deep down, to him, it was, and he knew he wasn't fooling anyone. She brushed her lips softly across his.

"It's ok, baby. Your secret is safe with me."

"What secret?"

"That you have this huge, giving heart under this rough exterior, Sandor Clegane."

He snorted. "We need to discuss money again, Sansa. I won't have anyone saying I'm after you for your company."

She grinned, full and bright.

"I'll be your sugar mama Sandor," then let out a squeal as he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, walking them back into the house.

"You know I love it when you do this,” she told him.

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. Then I get to see that tight ass of yours baby," Sansa said, and then blushed brightly as Sandor carried her through his living room where Ric, Tormund, Brienne, Arya and Gendry were all hanging out.

Sandor smirked as Sansa moaned in mortification, not even stopping as he packed her upstairs. 

"Don't fucking mess up my house!" Sandor called out to the others as he bounded up the stairs with her.

Standing here now at the airport, waiting for his parents, Sandor still couldn't believe that this beautiful, smart, amazing woman that loved him, could be worth so much money one day.

He hoped to hell she would be, for her sake, not his.

Sansa deserved all the good things in life, and Sandor figured if he were lucky, he'd just get to be along for the ride, by her side, for as long as she let him be there.

The next few days had passed pleasantly enough, although Mini and Hoster had announced they were staying for an extra weekend. Hoster figured the team actually had a chance this year, so he wanted in on opening night.

Tormund slowly got better, enough that he was finally declared ready for Friday night.

And now he was standing with his girlfriend, at the airport, waiting for his parents to arrive.

His parents.

_Wasn't that a fucking trip?_ Sandor thought.

Of course, Mama B and Sansa talked daily, texting one another, sending funny videos to each other and FaceTiming. It wasn't as if he'd kept her locked away and from interacting with them. But this was different. This was real life, in person, no hiding. This wasn’t anything that Sandor had ever done before, and he was a bundle of nerves.

They announced the arrival of the plane from Lannisport, and if sensing his nerves, Sansa squeezed his hand.

"This is going to be perfect, baby," she told him, voice full of confidence.

He loved that about her. Life hadn't beaten her down, and Sansa willingly shared her sunshine with him.

"Yeah, it'll be good."

A few savvy fans had spotted them, but Sandor was wearing a backwards baseball cap and Sansa a matching Wolves one with her long blond hair pulled through the back, so they'd mostly gone unnoticed.

Until Mama B came through the gates and saw him.

"SANDOR! My baby boy!" she cried and rushed towards him. A whole hell of a lot of people turned then and spotted them.

Sandor couldn't help the grin that lit his face. Had anyone but his mother and Sansa loved him like Brenda Marbrand? Sandor knew if he'd become a mechanic or a plumber, she would have been equally proud of him.

He opened his arms and squeezed her tightly, uncaring of the crowd they were drawing, drowning out the whispers of _Sansan_, that he heard.

"Hey Mom," he whispered to her, trying it out of the first time.

She shook, her body overcome with emotion.

"Oh my boy, now you've gone and done it and made me a blubbery mess as I'm about to meet your girl, face to face for the first time."

She swatted harmlessly at him, and he grinned and stepped back, pulling Sansa closer to him.

"Mama B, meet Sansa. Sansa, Mama B."

They looked at each other for two seconds before they were hugging and laughing, each exclaiming how beautiful the other was. Sandor shook his head and looked at Addam.

"Son," Addam said, holding out his hand.

"Thought we were over that shit, Dad," Sandor said and pulled the man in for a hug.

The shudder through Addam's body told Sandor he'd made the right call. They finished their man hug, to see Mama B with an arm wrapped possessively around Sansa.

"Isn’t Sandor's girl just gorgeous, Addam?!" Mama B exclaimed, making Sansa blush.

"Hi," she said, giving Addam a little wave before the ordinarily stoic man pulled her in for a hug.

"Thank you for loving him," Addam whispered into Sansa's ear, inciting a fresh round of tears.

"I'm the one who should thank you for taking a chance on him."

"He's worth it," Addam said.

"Bet your butt he is," Sansa replied, sealing their friendship.

When they finally had their luggage, Sandor and Sansa took them out to the SUV, and Mama B gave Sandor a look.

"This is new."

"Yeah, well, it's the North. They get a shit ton of snow up here, or so I'm told."

"Language," Mama B clucked and ran her hands over the supple leather. "Well, I feel like a queen driving in such a vehicle, Sandy. It's pure luxury."

Sansa's grin was huge as Sandor’s Mom kept on talking.

"I love her," she whispered to Sandor, who shook his head, but he was smirking. It felt right, having the two of them in the vehicle with him and Sansa, and Sandor took them by the rink, to show them where he now played, before turning North to go to their neighbourhood.

"My parents live closer to the lake, and Sandor's house is about five blocks from them," Sansa explained.

She'd moved all her shit in now, over this past week. They were well past the idea that she would ever live anywhere else as long as they were together. The declaration of love had solidified things between them.

"We're going to head over there for dinner tonight if that's alright."

Both Mama B and Addam eagerly agreed. They wanted to meet Sansa’s parents, and Sandor spoke highly of both of them.

"This is so pretty. Such a perfect place to raise a family," Mama B said as they drove towards Sandor's house, winking at Sansa, who blushed but nodded.

"It is. The best schools in Wintertown are only a few blocks away, and all my siblings and I went to school here."

Mama B beamed and then gasped when Sandor's place came into view.

"Good job," Addam said, his voice deep. Sandor's shoulder's relaxed with Addam’s approval.

"Sandy, this is just amazing," Mama B exclaimed, and Sandor's entire body radiated warmth at her words.

He pulled into the garage, hearing her tsk when she spotted his Harley. She'd never been a big fan, but Sandor didn't care; he loved it. And so did Sansa.

"Come on, let's go inside," he said.

He'd explained the entire Ramsay situation, so they weren't surprised by Brienne, who was at the kitchen table reviewing some security footage. The large woman stood and wiped her hands on her pants nervously, as Mama B bustled inside. Brienne was eclipsed by Sweetie, who barked softly and came wiggling over to Sandor, glancing at the two new people in her home.

Mama B had tears in her eyes again, and even Addam looked intrigued.

"And who is this beautiful girl?" Mama B asked, sinking to her knees as Sweetie squiggled and licked her face, moaning as Mama B and Addam scratched and petted her.

"That's Sweetie," Sandor said, holding onto Sansa's hands.

It was shocking to realize how much he had made the North his home. Things had never felt like this in Lannisport. His condo there had been shockingly sterile and impersonal, even though he'd lived in it for over a decade.

When Sweetie ran off to find her favourite toy, Mama B straightened and looked around.

"This kitchen is just a dream! I mean, can you imagine family dinners here?! We could all fit and then some."

When Mama B spotted Brienne, she pulled the woman in for an awkward hug and then thanked her for looking out for her Sandy and Sansa.

Brienne mumbled something and then slipped away to her room.

Sandor and Addam had brought in their luggage, and Sandor wondered how long his parents were planning on staying. It seemed they'd packed for longer than a weekend, but he found he didn’t mind. It would be nice to have them here after opening weekend was over.

"Come on, rooms are upstairs," he said, as they wandered through the house. Of course, it wasn't that simple; nothing ever was with Brenda Marbrand.

She needed to stop and examine everything, remarking on how much she loved the house and Sandor's choices. He'd be a liar if he said it didn't feel right; to have her approval. He got them settled in their rooms and then went to find Sansa, who was in their bedroom, out on the terrace.

Sandor wrapped her in a hug from behind, adoring how she sunk into him.

"Alright, little bird?" he whispered into her ear, noting how she shivered slightly at his touch. He ran his big hands up and down her arms.

"I know your childhood was horrible, Sandor, and it breaks my heart. But you won the lottery with those two," she told him, and he grunted his agreement.

"Wonder how your granny is going to do with Mama B?" Sandor murmured, mesmerized by Sansa's hair. He wondered if she'd ever dye it red again.

He heard her snicker. "Oh, it should be entertaining."

Sandor snorted. He had somehow become surrounded by sharp, witty, caring women.

A knock on their door had them both turning, as Mama poked her head in.

"Do you mind if I spend some time in the kitchen, Sandy? I'd hate to show up to dinner tonight empty-handed."

He shook his head, noting he was due for another meal.

"Come on, little bird; maybe Mama can teach you a thing or two in the kitchen,” as they walked out of the bedroom.

"You don't cook, my dear?" Brenda asked, and Sansa shook her head.

"Nope. Not well, at least. I'm actually kind of useless, but I'd love to learn," she said, and Mama B's green eyes lit up as she rubbed her hands together in glee.

"Now you've done it," Sandor whispered to Sansa as Mama started listing off her ideas to get Sansa 'ship-shape' in the kitchen.

"Sandy's a big guy, my dear, and he needs lots of food. Best you learn now," Mama said as Sansa grinned at her.

"Mama, Sansa doesn't have to cook for me. I can do the cooking."

Brenda stopped on the stairs and turned. "Of course, and you should. No man should ever be useless in his own home, Sandy, and that's not how I raised you. But a woman should also know the basics, so she feels comfortable in the kitchen as well, right Sansa?"

"Right, Mama B. I'd love it if you could teach me."

Knowing he'd lost that battle, Sandor sighed and followed them downstairs, where they found Addam with a cup of coffee and a newspaper, Sweetie at his feet, entirely at home in Sandor's house.

Of course, before they could even start to cook, Sansa gathered the four of them, plus the dog and got Brienne to snap a picture. She fiddled with it, adding filters and then the hashtags:

#Sansanfamily

#Wolfpack

#MamaBinthehouse

#Familyforever

#thehoundsparentshereforopeningweekend

#ilovethesepeople

She showed all three of them, Addam, Mama B and Sandor and asked if she could post it. Mama B was overcome.

"On _YOUR_ page? Oh my, are you sure? I'm no celebrity, Sansa, love," she said, clearly flattered.

Sansa pressed a kiss to her cheek, and Sandor's heart felt like it might thump out of his chest, seeing the two of them together.

"No, you're better than a celebrity; you're family."

That set Mama B off into a torrent of tears as Sansa pressed post, and the two women embraced. Sandor took a seat by Addam.

"She's a remarkable woman, Sandor," Addam said, watching as Mama hustled about to feed her 'boy,' gently giving Sansa instructions.

"She is." Sandor coughed. "I'm going to ask her to marry me one day."

Addam nodded. "Grandchildren would be nice."

Sandor grinned. He wanted to ask how attached they were to the West; to Ashemark and whether or not they would finally take his help and come North to retire up here. But Sandor knew it was too soon. Maybe one day, though. The idea of having a bunch of kids with Sansa, with two sets of grandparents was so tantalizing for a child that came from such a broken home.

Then he was brought back to the present, as Mama B laughed and shooed Sansa away from a pot that had boiled over, calling for Sandor to come and help them, or she'd never get her famous triple chocolate brownies made for dessert.

Sandor hugged Mama B as he stood in front of the stove, so grateful they'd made an effort to be here this weekend.

"Thanks for coming," he rumbled out to her.

She hugged him back. "Oh my boy, I wasn't going to miss this for anything in the world."

Sansa's eyes were bright and shiny when Sandor caught her look, and she mouthed, "I love you so much," and he smiled back at her.

It has been five weeks since Sandor had moved to Wintertown, and found everything he'd never known he wanted. He was a bit lost in his head when Sansa cried happily that people loved their picture, and Mama B started giving him orders to help, and Addam rose and said he'd take Sweetie for a walk.

This really was his life, these people he called family.

They were his entire world and he’d never been more grateful in his entire life that he’d run away from home and straight into the Marbrand’s loving arms.

* * *

Sandor shook his head at the picture they made as his Mom and Sansa made their way up the driveway of Winterfell. Mama B had been suitably impressed by the Stark family home, and she waved a hand, wondering if she was dressed appropriately.

Thankfully, Sansa reassured her that she was, as they carried a few bottles of wine and a towering plate of Mama B’s famous triple chocolate brownies. Sandor had hooked Sweetie to her leash and she was prancing happily by his side.

Tonight was just Sansa’s grandparents, parents and Rickon. Both Robb and Arya hadn’t been invited and Sandor was grateful. He liked Sansa’s siblings, but this might be easier with just the core family. And he knew how tired Cat got. Sandor had a new Sudoku puzzle book for her, and Mama B had made them stop so she could buy Catelyn some of her highly recommended romance novels. They’d also stopped for flowers, so they were all loaded down as Sansa knocked and then pushed inside.

First Rickon was there, and he lit up when he saw Sandor.

“Hey man, how are you?” he asked, barely glancing at Sansa.

“So I’m just chopped liver now, Ricrock?”

Her brother blushed but shrugged. It was no secret how much he adored Sandor. And Sweetie.

“I’ll take her,” Ric said, holding his hand out for Sweetie’s leash. Then as if realizing there were other people there, Ric gave Mama B and Addam a smile.

“Hi. I’m Rickon, Sansa’s youngest brother.”

“Well you are a handsome one,” Mama B said, smiling at him. “Be a love and take these brownies into your Mama,” she said, shoving the plate towards Ric.

“Woah, these look amazing.”

“Ric, these are my parents,” Sandor said, taking their coats and hanging them up. “Mama B and Mr. Marbrand.”

Addam waved a hand, seeing that Ric had his full. “You can call me Addam.”

Ric bobbed his head. “Ok, yeah. Cool. This is awesome. Sandor is the best. I mean, obviously you guys know that, but seriously, he’s awesome.”

Mama beamed at Rickon, just as Cat and Ned appeared.

“Sorry, we were just out back, looking at what needed to be done to the gardens. Welcome to Winterfell,” Ned said, smiling warmly at the Marbrands.

Addam and Ned did shake hands, each silently assessing the other, until satisfied they nodded.

Cat blushed at the flower and books.

“Sandor, you really must stop bringing me gifts each time you come over.”

“Why?” he asked and Cat flushed and sputtered.

“Because… well… I mean…. It’s just…”

Mama B clapped her hands and laid a hand on Sandor’s shoulder. “Oh that warms my heart that my boy is pampering you, Mrs. Stark.”

Catelyn smiled warmly at Brenda Marbrand. “Please, call me Cat and come in. Let’s get these flowers in some water.”

Sandor watched as Sansa disappeared with the Moms, and Ned took him and Addam towards the Great Room where Hoster was watching a pre-season basketball game.

“Where’s the dragon?” Sandor asked in a sotto voice to Ned.

He rolled his eyes. “Giving orders to our gardener. I swear, she thinks she’s being helpful.”

Hoster snorted, and heaved himself out of his chair, holding his hand out for Addam.

“Your son is a fine addition to our team. He’s promised me a championship,” Hoster said, not mincing words as he settled back down.

The four men all took a spot and began an in-depth discussion of the Wolves' upcoming season. Sandor hardly realized an hour had passed, when Sansa suddenly appeared, a happy look on her face.

She settled herself on his lap, uncaring that both their Dads and her grandpa were there and snuggled into him.

“Where are the Moms?”

Sansa giggled. “My mom brought out baby pictures.”

Sandor snorted. “So they are getting along?”

Sansa’s eyes went wide. “Sandor, I swear they were like insta-besties! It’s so cute. My Mom is actually kind of shy and I know she hadn’t seen a lot of her old group since the cancer diagnosis. Most people don’t know what to say or do, but that’s not Mama B’s style.”

_No_, Sandor thought, _it wasn’t_. Brenda Marbrand was the type of woman that dug in deeper when she sensed someone needed a little extra love; like him.

“I’m glad,” was all he said back to Sansa, because really, there wasn’t anything else to say.

Sandor tightened his grip on Sansa, loving how she cuddled closer, and let hockey talk wash over him.

If Cat and Brenda had hit it off, Sandor swore that Ned was making a play to offer Addam a job as a scout for the Wolves. Addam had always loved hockey and had volunteered much of his spare time to coaching, even after his son had died. He was one of those genuinely good people that gave back to the sport he loved, and knew the game inside and out.

Sandor felt himself fully relax, now that all the most important people in his life got along.

When Mini sauntered into the room, a drink in hand, she eyed Addam critically.

“So, you’re the one who rescued our Sandy,” she said, lips pursed, as if she were judging whether or not he was fit to be Sandor’s father.

To his credit, Addam held her gaze. “I am. But he rescued us as well. We lost our son to cancer a few years before Sandor came into our lives.”

At that, Mini’s hardshell crumbled. “Oh seven hells, I’m sorry. I’ve really stepped in it.”

Addam smiled warmly. “No, I like knowing Sandor has another family to look out for him.”

Mini nodded regally. “He most certainly does.” Then she winked at Addam. “And he makes a mean martini!”

Sansa laughed at her grandmother and dragged her back to the kitchen, saying dinner was almost ready.

It was the oddest sensation for Sandor, to sit at the table and have both his and Sansa’s family there. It was less chaotic, because of no Arya and no Robb, but no less pleasant either. His parents fit in seamlessly into Winterfell and with the Stark’s and Tully’s, as if they’d been lifelong friends, and later, when Sandor packed Sansa, Mama B and Addam up, they were all a bit tipsy and quite happy with one another.

Driving home, Sandor glanced back to see Addam holding Brenda’s hand, gazing at her adoringly, and Sandor knew that’s where he got his ideal for love from. From them. They’d modelled it day in and day out for Sandor, never pushing him or demanding that he find a woman until he was ready. He picked up Sansa’s hand and brought it to his lips to kiss, eliciting an _awwww_ from Mama B, but he didn’t mind. He liked that they could see him in love with this remarkable woman, and her amazing family.

“Love you, little bird.”

“I love you, Sandor.”

Contentment unlike anything he’d ever felt settled over Sandor and he smiled at the way back to their house, where tonight, his entire family would sleep, safe and secure under one roof, here in the North.

* * *

_ Sansa _

Sansa was walking with her head down, on her phone, checking out her latest Instagram post as she made her way towards Sam during the morning skate at Wintertown Arena on Friday morning as the Wolves held a light practice before their season opener tonight on home ice.

Pod had texted earlier and mentioned he thought that Harry might be trolling her page. Since there was an unambiguous agreement in place with Harry, Sansa needed to know if he'd done anything to violate that.

**Pod**: It's just, I got used to phrasing Harry used

**Sansa**: Thanks, Pod. I'll check it out. I might have to bring Wyn and Jeyne in on this

**Pod**: Of course. For the most part, the trolls have been down. I think they're scared of Sandor

**Sansa**: LOL.

Sansa was lost in her phone, that she didn't even notice the man she almost walked into until a strong arm reached out and steadied her. Startled, she slipped her phone into her pocket and glanced up.

Sansa was a tall woman, and she'd gotten used to Sandor's size. But many men were her equal in height. Not this man.

He was tall; at least 6'3.

Lean.

Fit.

Older.

And dressed in a suit that Sansa knew cost five figures.

Tywin Lannister, the Great Lion himself, had his hand on her bicep, and he wasn't letting go.

"Careful, Ms. Stark," he rumbled out in his deep voice.

_Holy shirt balls_, Sansa thought. _This man was the wealthiest person in Westeros. And he'd been an utter ass to the man she loved._

"Or what? You'll scold me? Tell my father I didn’t bow down to you?" She rolled her eyes and twisted, so he was forced to let her go. "Please. You're in my rink now, Mr. Lannister."

Sansa was staggered by her own bravery. She had NO idea where it was coming from. Only that she felt a fierce need to defend Sandor and call this man out for his appalling behavior.

"So, you know who I am." Cold gold-green eyes assessed her.

Sansa didn't flinch. If anything, she straightened her back and met his gaze. He didn't intimidate her in the least.

"Of course, I know about the man that used a childhood trauma to try and destroy the man I love."

He arched an elegant eyebrow at her.

He was the devil.

He was evil.

_Ok, he was sort of good looking in an older man that had a lot of money and power, and kind of had his sex appeal and holy shirt balls what was her brain doing? _Sansa thought. _This man was not good looking. He was not sexy. He was a bad man._

"You're feisty. I never thought I'd see the day when the Dog would have a woman like you on his arm."

Out of the corner of her eye, Sansa saw Brienne move in closer. Sansa gave a slight nod of her head.

"Well, he does; have me, I mean. And don’t call him that. His name is Sandor."

Then she coloured, thinking about what that sounded like.

With Tormund living at Sandor's place for the past week, they hadn't had sex. Not that Sansa wasn't ready. She was ready. She was beyond ready. But Tormund had left, and then Mama B and Addam had arrived and holy jumping jellyfish Sansa did NOT want to have sex the first time when Sandor's parents were in the house.

Tywin snorted.

"That man is beneath you, Ms. Stark."

Sansa saw red. Unthinking, she drilled Tywin with her pointer finger.

"Stop. You do not get to say things like that about him. That man is worth ten of you, and it has nothing to do with money or status. You're a bully, Mr. Lannister, and for all his power and all his strength, that is not Sandor Clegane."

"You think you know him? The man spent over a decade defending my son and now my grandson on the ice. He's a follower, Ms. Stark, a tool, a weapon, someone to be used."

Sansa was vibrating. "He's good. And kind. And true. And he is not a dog."

Tywin snorted and shook his head. "I thought you were smarter than that, Ms. Stark. Imagine what you might become with the right man by your side. But with him? Please. He's trash, and we both know it."

Sansa stepped back, afraid she'd do something she'd regret. "You know what I see when I look at you, Mr. Lannister?"

Tywin said nothing.

"A lonely, pathetic old man, who has nothing but his reputation as an asshole and an empty bed to crawl into. Sandor Clegane might only ever be a dog to you, but he's the best damn man I've ever met. I'm proud that I'm his and that he's mine. And I love that he's here in the North. You would have destroyed him, Mr. Lannister."

Then she spun and walked away, shaking with rage.

_How did Sandor stand it when people looked at him like that? Spoke to him like that? Treated him like that? Didn't they see what he'd overcome? How amazing was he?_

Lost in her world, filled with disgust and rage and such loathing that someone could treat another person in such a way, Sansa barely recognized that Brienne was following her as she made her way to the outside of the dressing room to wait for Sandor.

Of course, as luck would have it, she turned a corner and literally ran smack into Jaime Lannister.

Sansa groaned, feeling her face redden, as the Golden Lion (that was his nickname) reached out to steady her.

"Woah," he said, voice light with his typical Jaime smirk in place.

For years he had been Sansa's absolute favourite player. Given Ned's intense dislike of the Lannister's, her father had never encouraged Sansa to meet him, save that one time she had waited for his autograph that one time. 

Sansa realized she was staring at him when he released her arm and stepped back giving her back her space.

Time had done nothing to steal Jaime's good looks. If anything, he was one of those annoying men who got better as he aged. The laugh lines on his face added character and his hair was longer now that he was no longer playing, and artfully styled.

"Are you alright?" he asked, real concern in his voice.

"Your father is an asshole," Sansa blurted out and then blushed deep red and covered her mouth, mortified at what she had just said.

She had been raised to have manners, to be above such things, to treat those in positions of authority with respect. But Tywin had gotten her so fired up that she just couldn't help it.

Jaime rocked back on his heels, a grin threatening on his face.

"He is, isn't he?" he agreed quickly, and he flashed her a smile that Sansa knew had melted more than one pair of panties right off the lucky woman it was aimed at. Thankfully she was immune.

Oh, don't get her wrong. Jaime Lannister was lovely, eye-watering man candy, but he wasn't her Sandor. No tats were threatening to poke through his perfect polo shirt, his hair was, Sansa suspected, artfully mused and not naturally that way, and his eyes were the wrong colour.

Still, she had to say something.

"I'm sorry, I just had a run-in with him, and he got me so angry that now I'm swearing at unsuspecting strangers. I'm Sansa," she said, holding out her hand.

"Jaime."

She hated that she blushed again, but she did.

"I know. I mean, my Dad's Ned Stark, so I've known who you were my entire life. Because of hockey. Not because you were my favourite player. I mean, you were, but I never really met you. Unless you count that one time, I waited for an autograph. Oh god, I'm going to shut up now."

Jaime's smiled got bigger. "So, I'm your favourite player, huh?"

"Well, you used to be."

"Ouch." Jaime clutched at his chest, and Sansa wondered if he even had to try to talk a woman into his bed. He was too charming by far. Still, there was a bit of sadness and self-depreciation there that Sansa suspected not everyone saw.

Sansa grinned. "Don't play dumb with me. I saw you start to follow me on Instagram. You know who I’m dating."

"Sansan, huh. Never thought I'd see the day when Clegane got himself a girlfriend," Jaime murmured, taking Sansa in.

Her eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"

Jaime held up his hands. "Whoa, slow down there. I didn't mean it in a bad way. When he was in Lannisport, I made a point of thanking him for protecting me for all those years we played tougher. He's a good guy, despite the rough exterior."

Sansa studied Jaime, trying to determine if his words were truthful or not. "He is a good guy, and I don't care about the rough exterior."

Jaime laid a gentle hand on Sansa's arm. "I'm glad. Truly. He deserves it."

Sansa's eyes filled with tears. "He does. He's such a good man, and I love him so much."

Unfortunately, that was when said a good man came around the corner with Ned, Ric, Tormund, Robb, Jon and Bronn, and they all saw Jaime giving Sansa a hug while she was crying.

Sansa barely registered the bellow of rage, and she thought she heard Sandor yell, "Hands off Lannister," when Jaime shoved her behind him and turned to face the angry Wolves. She knew this had the potential to get bad, fast. She hated that Sandor had seen her hugging another man, but it hadn’t meant anything more than comfort.

Thankfully, Brienne stepped in between the two groups.

"STOP!" her bodyguard and good friend yelled. Brienne looked at the Wolves players. "This is NOT what any of you think it is."

Sansa glanced at Sandor, who was glaring at Jaime and practically vibrating with rage. He wouldn't even meet her eyes. Sansa’s heart sank.

_He couldn't think that she liked Jaime, could he?_

"I think that Lannister dick is touching my fucking woman," Sandor snarled.

_Ok, so maybe he did_, Sansa thought. She went to speak when Brienne shook her head.

"Let me," she said grinning. Not knowing what Brienne had up her sleeve, but trusting her friend, Sansa nodded.

"Sansa ran into Tywin Lannister a few minutes before Jaime."

All the Wolves opened their mouths, but one look from Brienne shut them again. Sansa heard Tormund whisper how amazing Brienne was, while Sandor stomped his feet impatiently.

"What the fuck did that cunt do?" Sandor growled.

"Watch," was all Brienne said and took out her phone. She had taped Sansa's full explosion at Tywin, including her poking him in the chest and calling him a lonely old man.

Several sets of stunned eyes landed on her.

"Little bird?" Sandor asked, wonder in his voice.

She threw herself at him, scrambling up his body, and he picked her up, holding her to him. She wrapped her legs around him.

"He was saying such mean things, Sandor. Mean, awful things. I couldn't let him get away with it."

"Fucking hell, woman, I love you so much."

"I love you too."

Their eyes met, and something in Sansa shifted into place, that final piece that she had been waiting for.

"Take me home, Sandor. Now."

Understanding lit his eyes, and he nodded, walking out of the rink without looking back, as their friends and family called out to them. Sansa didn't care. She needed this man now. In every single way, she could be connected to him, she needed him. He was her heart, her home, the love of her life.

Sansa barely remembered the drive home, because Sandor's home was her home. It was her future, and her entire life was here, with him. Her whole body was turned to everything he did, every breath he took, the smell of him, the way he held her hand, tight and possessively as if they'd both known she would always be his.

They raced inside, bypassing the Marbrand's who were sitting in the great room. Neither Sansa nor Sandor saw the knowing smirks exchanged between the two of them. They got to their bedroom and Sansa was in Sandor's arms as he locked the door.

Sandor kissed her, carding his hands through her hair, his lips possessing hers, as if he’d been holding back this whole time, afraid to show her just how much he wanted her. But Sansa wasn’t afraid. She wanted all of his desire, all of his lust, all of his love.

The kiss was full of carnal promise and hard. Determined. As if Sandor meant to mark her, to prove once and for all that she was his.

And oh gods, she was his. She was his, his, his.

"Clothes, off, now," Sansa demanded, tugging at him. Everything felt too tight, too constricting. Sansa wanted him, with his hard body and beautiful ink that was as much a part of him as the scar on his face.

Helpless to resist her, Sandor pulled his shirt over his head, and Sansa moaned, all those muscles and tats just begging for her touch. She let her hands roam over the hard planes of his body, licking, sucking and biting whenever she encountered flesh. He sucked in a hard breath, and Sansa could feel his heart racing. She loved how she got him just as wound up as he got her.

Sandor was tugging at her clothes as well.

"Fuck sakes, I need you naked, baby," he grunted as Sansa giggled as she kicked off her shoes and shucked off her pants, pulling her top off, so she was standing before him in skimpy lingerie that crisscrossed her body.

She watched as Sandor's eyes heated, liquid pools of grey mist as desire fired in both of them, sending jolts of lust straight to her clit, which pulsed. Sansa could feel how wet she was, how ready. She didn't want finesse and soft touches. She wanted the man to take her, to be inside her, to join them together.

Sansa walked seductively back to the bed, swaying her hips, knowing Sandor was watching her.

She arranged herself on their huge bed, framed by the white comforter, a feast she hoped he couldn't resist.

"Take me, Sandor."

He growled and stripped off his pants and underwear, so he was gloriously naked, his cock hard and angry looking. He took himself in his hand, stroking himself as his eyes raked over her body and he walked towards her. He was a sight she couldn’t get enough of. She needed more.

"Protection?"

Sansa smiled. "I'm clean, and I'm on birth control. And I trust you."

"Thank fuck," he whispered. He got to the bed and dragged her closer to him so that he could capture her lips in a searing kiss. "Never been in anyone bare before, Sansa."

Her eyes widened, and she smiled. "You're my second. And hopefully my last."

He growled again, and she knew that he loved that idea. A huge part of her loved it as well. Every piece of her was attuned to this man as he lowered himself over her, flicking open her bra, so her hard nipples were finally free. He took one in his mouth, tugging and biting at it, his hand cupping the rest of her breast as he worshiped her, kneading her flesh into his mouth that worked her over.

Sansa loved how his body was so different from hers. Hard and darker and muscled, hairy and inked, while she was all soft white skin with pink accents. Somehow though, they worked, and when he had her literally in his hands, she felt worshiped and treasured.

"Fuck, I love what you taste like," he told her and Sansa moaned.

"More, baby. I need you in me. I'm ready, Sandor. Please."

Sansa could hear herself practically begging him. He sunk a thick finger inside her. Sansa moaned and arched into him, canting her hips upwards, seeking more, more, more.

"Fuck Sansa, you're still so tight, baby. I don't want to hurt you."

Sansa cupped his face, making him focus on her. "You won't."

He shuddered out a breath as if overcome with her trust in him. "Scoot up the bed," he told her. "I've plans for you woman, but this first time I'm not going to make love to you like some animal."

A shudder of desire rolled through her at that thought. She couldn't wait to discover all the ways Sandor wanted to have her. Harry had NOT been adventurous in bed, but somehow, Sansa knew that wouldn't be the case with Sandor. This man loved her so much.

Before Sansa could react, Sandor parted her thighs and swiped through her folds, drinking down her cream as he settled his mouth on her clit and put another finger inside her.

"Come, baby, it'll make this easier," he told her and Sansa was unable to deny him anything as her thighs clamped down on his head, pinning him to her pussy as she screamed his name and flooded his hand and mouth with her first orgasm.

She was breathing heavily, as Sandor licked his fingers, rising to settle his weight carefully over her. She felt his thick cock nudge at her entrance, and she moaned again, her desire ramping back up.

"Gods, I've never seen anything as beautiful as you, Sansa," Sandor told her reverently, and she forced herself to focus on this man above her. She knew this moment was more than just sex; more than just the physical act. They had waited until everything in their lives aligned, so that when he finally entered her, Sansa knew that this would be it. Sandor would be the last man she ever slept with, and that thought filled her with such joy that she tugged his lips down to hers, kissing him deeply.

She tasted herself on him, tangy and salty and musky, and arched her hips, so the tip of his dick slipped inside her.

"Make love to me, Sandor. Make me yours," she whispered against his lips, and he groaned and worked himself inside her.

He was so careful with her, his movements steady and rhythmic as he opened her up. She'd never had anything like him inside her before, Harry's dick being quite small and unimpressive compared to Sandor's length and girth.

And yet, it didn't hurt or feel bad. There was a little pressure and a sense of fullness, but more than anything, it felt like home. Sansa moved her hips, seeking more from him.

"More baby, please," she begged.

"Sansa, fuck," Sandor panted, the muscles in his neck bulging as he tried to hold back, rocking back and forth until he was finally entirely inside her, his balls touching the cheeks of her butt.

They locked eyes and stilled for a moment, and then Sansa wiggled and watched as he groaned and pulled back to slam back inside her, and her world exploded in sheer, unadulterated pleasure.

"Holy mother fluffer, what was that?" Sansa whispered and caught Sandor's smirk.

"That was a man fucking you properly, baby," he said, cocky and full of ego.

Sansa felt her pussy clench. This man and what he did to her. She'd never been this filled, never felt anything like what Sandor was doing. He was destroying her for anyone else, but she already knew that he'd be the only man she'd sleep with for the rest of her life. She loved him, body, mind and soul.

"Ohhhhhh," she moaned as he did it again. And again. And again, his dick was scraping over that patch of nerves deep inside her walls, making her shudder and come apart.

"Sandor," Sansa said, her voice shaky as she dug her nails into his shoulders, drawing a little blood, but he didn't seem to care. They were slicked with sweat as the room was filled with the sounds of their coupling, the smack of flesh coming together, her breathless pants and moans and his grunts.

He was hitting the spot inside her that made every single nerve ending she had never known exist, fire and every time he did, Sansa gripped him harder, trying to keep him deep inside her. She had her legs wrapped around his thick midsection as he thrust in and out, again and again.

"Fucking hell, woman, I'm not going to last," Sandor muttered at one point, angling her hips in such a way that Sansa had all but screamed his name. One of his big hands came and gripped her ass, while the other brushed against her clit, that was so sensitive it felt like a live wire every time he touched her.

_Last? What did he mean?_ Sansa thought vaguely. She could feel her orgasm building and knew the moment he touched her clit, and she'd fly apart.

"Jesus, you're milking me, baby," he grunted into her ear.

"Touch me, Sandor. I'm so close," Sansa begged, and he pinched her and then rubbed her nub until she clamped down, velvet heat all around him, and she exploded into her orgasm.

He grunted a few more times, thrusting wildly until she felt him empty his seed deep inside her, jet after jet of hot semen coating her. Sansa loved every single moment as he was panting to catch his breath.

"Hi," she giggled, finally gathering herself and kissing him again, this time gentle and slow.

"Fuck, little bird, that was..."

Sansa grinned. "Amazing."

"Best fucking sex of my life," Sandor muttered and then rolled them, so he came from free from her, but she was still in his arms. Sansa sighed contently, wondering if it would always be this good between them because, if so, sign her up.

"You are such a good lover, Sandor," Sansa said, savouring that word.

She had a lover! A lover who loved her, she thought happily to herself. A lover who gave her multiple orgasms!

"All you, Sansa," he whispered, reaching for his phone and setting the alarm. "Take my pre-game nap with me?"

Sansa wiggled, feeling his come leaking out of her. She turned and kissed him. "I will. Just need to use the bathroom."

She darted out, cleaned herself up, peed and looked at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands. She had whisker marks on her neck, and her nipples were red and wet, her eyes bright, with the stupidest grin on her face. She looked like a woman that had been well-loved, and it thrilled her. When she went back into their bedroom, she closed the blinds and slipped in beside Sandor, loving when his massive arms wrapped her close to him.

"Love you, little bird."

"Love you, big guy."

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Opening Night

* * *

_ Sandor  _

Sandor woke before his alarm with Sansa curled up so tightly to him it was as if they were fused as one. She had one long leg in between his, and her sweet peachy ass pressed into his groin while his big hand cupped a breast. Even with the mind-blowing sex, they'd just had; Sandor's dick was hard as a rock, and he had to use all his willpower not to adjust her slightly and sink inside. Maybe one day he'd wake her up like that, but the second time he made love with this woman, and trust him, it was way more than fucking, he'd do it when she knew exactly what he was doing to her.

There was something about her little gasps, her pants, her cries that made sex all the sweeter than it had ever been for him.

In his life, Sandor had a lot of meaningless sex. It had been almost like scratching an itch, something he did that felt good at the time, but the feeling never lasted. He should have known that he was a man built for monogamy when he’d stopped sleeping with bunnies a few years ago. He fucking loved that Sansa was his. That Sansa fucking Stark loved him. That she was his biggest defender. The woman had gone up against Tywin Lannister – for him. Sandor still couldn't believe it.

He'd lost it a bit today when he'd come around the corner and seen Jaime hugging her. He and Jaime had bumped along alright when they had played together, although they had never been close. But if Sandor had his fair share of bunnies, Jaime had his pick of the litter. Models, actresses, bunnies. Fuck, Sandor had seen more women throw themselves at Jaime than he could probably count.

Although, now that Sandor thought about it, Jaime never said much about his conquests. The guys in the room just always assumed he'd been sleeping with whomever he'd wanted since he always had some beautiful woman on his arm. But watching Jaime today, Sandor had caught a look of almost envy on the Golden Lion's face when Sansa had blurted out how much she loved him.

Who would have ever thought that Sansa would choose him over the Lannister's?

Sandor's dick twitched again, so he leaned down and nuzzled at Sansa's neck, stroking her nipple, so it hardened and murmuring in her ear.

"Wake up, little bird."

She stretched and turned, blue eyes popping open to smile at him.

Sandor had never had anything so fucking pure and right in his life look at him the way that Sansa did. It was fucking magic, and he vowed to do whatever necessary to have her look at him like that for the rest of his life.

"Hi baby," she whispered, blushing adorably. Sandor stroked a hand down her slim stomach, petting her as her legs fell open.

"Hi love," he said, trying the endearment out.

Judging by her smile, she liked it.

"How are you feeling? Too sore?" he asked. Sandor knew he wasn't a small guy, and Sansa hadn't been with anyone in a long time.

"Not too sore," she said, a need in her voice.

Sandor's big hand grabbed her leg and hooked it over his, scissoring her open, so his cock nudged up against her wet opening, as he thrust inside her, Sansa's body willingly taking him in.

"Ohhhh," she moaned, and that went straight to his dick, making it even harder. He pumped lazily for a time, content to just suck on her neck, and play with her sensitive nipples.

His little bird loved what he was doing, and her already wet entrance drenched him as he moved inside her. She was so fucking tight that Sandor had to concentrate not to come before she was ready. Finally, she grabbed his hand and placed it right over her mound.

"Please, baby," she begged him, and he grinned, nipping at her.

"What do you want, little bird?" he whispered into her ear.

"To come," she demanded eagerly.

Fuck, he loved her. This woman had been worth the wait, worth the baring of his scarred soul, worth opening himself up to. She was everything to him, and Sandor knew she was it for him. There was no other woman in the entire world for him than Sansa Stark. Somehow he was the lucky fucker that got her love as well.

He thrummed his big thumb over her greedy clit, loving it when she bucked wildly on him.

"Come, baby," he commanded her and then felt her break apart on him, gripping him so tightly he wondered if he'd ever been this deep inside a woman before. He bellowed out her name as he pumped her full of his come, loving when she went limp against him, twisting so she could kiss him on the lips.

Sandor drew her into his arms as they collapsed together on the bed, her little giggles doing as much for him as her heated grunts had. This woman was everything to him, and he had no idea how he'd ended up with her. He knew he was a lucky bastard. While he wanted nothing more than to linger in bed with her, and trust him, he was making plans for an entire day with nothing but his bed and Sansa and her sweet body, he knew he needed to shower, eat, dress and get to the rink.

He pulled her out of bed, strolling to the shower with her as she blushed at their combined spendings that were running down her leg. Soon enough, they were both clean, and Sandor clasped their hands together and walked down their big staircase.

"What will your parents think?" Sansa hissed at him, now embarrassed that they'd all but sprinted past the Marbrand's and up to their bedroom to clearly have sex.

Sandor grinned at her, hugging her close to kiss her. "They'll think we love each other, Sansa."

She gave him a look.

"We're living together, Sansa."

Sansa nodded. "I know. But I don't want Mama B to think that I'm a loose woman," Sansa whispered to him.

Fuck she was adorable, Sandor thought, shaking his head at her. "She won't, baby. I promise."

Sandor knew that Mama B understood how much they meant to one another, and he followed his nose to the kitchen, where she beamed at the two of them.

"Hungry?" she asked, winking, and Sansa coloured red.

Both nodded and sat down to eat, Sandor and Addam discussing the upcoming game, while Mama B and Sansa talked about make-up and branding. When he finished his pre-game dinner, Sandor pushed back his plate, realizing that for the first time in his entire life, he'd just had a meal where he'd truly felt part of a family in his own home. He knew that the Stark's and the Tully's liked him, so meals at Winterfell were great. But here, in his house? This was a first for him.

Before he left the kitchen to change, he went to the Great Room and got the presents he'd gotten for the Marbrand's. They were having coffee and talking with Sansa when he handed them each a gift bag. A bit stunned, Sandor shuffled when the opened them up to see his new Wolves' jersey with his name and #8 on the back.

"Oh Sandy," Mama B cried, launching herself to her feet and hugging him tightly.

"Thought you needed a new one," he told her roughly into her ear.

"I'll wear it proudly, son," she told him.

Addam just nodded, and it was enough. Sandor could see the emotion on the man's face.

"Ok, so if you're coming with me, be ready to leave in half an hour. Coach wants us there for five pm," Sandor told them, glancing at his watch. Sansa had told the Marbrand's she could give them a tour of the arena before the game started. They would be in the Stark luxury box tonight, and while Sandor would miss seeing Sansa on the ice level in the stands, he knew he could find her if he looked up high.

When they reconvened, Sandor was in another one of his designer suits. Sansa had helped him choose this one, and it had a green and blue tie to match the Wolves' colours. Of course, she'd cupped his cock, making him hard when he'd exited the walk-in closet wearing Tom Ford.

"Holy, you're so hot like this," she'd muttered, running her hands up and down his chest, helping tie his tie, nipping at him.

Sandor had grinned, letting her have his way with him. Her little hands were all over his body, and he knew that this edge would only make him better on the ice. He pulled her close, cupping her tight ass and grinding himself against her.

"Careful little bird or I might just have to have you again," he told her, knowing he had no time, but loving the flare of desire in her eyes.

She swatted at him and then pranced away to get herself ready, making him only five minutes late. Then she'd insisted Brienne take a picture of them, front and back, with Sandor in the middle and the three of them sporting their Clegane jerseys. Sandor's heart had felt like it might bust seeing the three of them with his name on their backs.

Of course, Sansa had uploaded the picture to her IG account with her now-famous hashtags:

_#SansanintheNorth_

_#Wolvesopeningnight_

_#Cleganepack_

That last one got Sandor. He had always wanted that; a pack. He could easily imagine a whole bunch of kids with Sansa, and maybe, if he were still lucky and playing, a little boy or girl in her arms with his jersey on as well. Of course, Sansa would be his wife in this preferred little scenario. Sandor wasn't an idiot – he knew he needed to lock her down before the woman came to her senses and realized he was just a big, dumb hockey player.

When they got to the rink, Sansa chirped happily, speaking with all the guards, getting them their passes, and then telling the Marbrand's all about the arena. They were in the lower levels, walking towards the player's dressing rooms when they ran smack dab into the entire Lannister clan.

The first one Sandor saw was Tywin, tall and stern-looking, as he was talking animatedly to his grandson, Joffrey. Joff played right wing for the Lions and while many had said he was a second Jaime Lannister, Sandor knew the kid didn't have the talent. Of course, at twenty-four, Joff wasn't a kid, but he was a fucking whiny snot bag on the ice, and not a player Sandor missed from his old team.

With Joffrey, were his parents, Cersei Lannister and Robert Baratheon. Cersei had never taken her husband's name, and she appeared as perfect and as cold as ever.

Also with them was Jaime, whose eyes warmed at the sight of Sandor and Sansa. He actually gave them a little wave, jogging over to meet them. Sandor looked beyond Jaime to see Tywin's attention now on his girlfriend. Sandor had to wonder if there would be fallout from Sansa's spat with Tywin earlier. The Great Lion wasn't known for his forgiving nature.

"Hey, you two," Jaime said, a warm smile on his face. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to Sansa's cheek, while Sandor growled.

"Careful, Lannister," Sandor said, although, for some reason, his jealousy had been somewhat mollified. Perhaps it was because Sansa was squeezing his hand, or maybe it was because she looked at Jaime like she did Jon Snow; as a friend. Whatever it was, for some reason, Jaime and Sansa seemed to get along, almost like two long lost friends or siblings.

"Ready for tonight?" Jaime quipped, winking at Sandor and then rolling his eyes as they all heard Joffrey screeching about his coach talking to the enemy.

Sandor smirked as the other Lannister's and Baratheon's came closer.

"Clegane," Tywin said, finally reaching them, a sneer in his voice. Then the owner of the Lion's glanced at Sansa. "Ms. Stark."

"Mr. Lannister."

Her voice was pure ice, and the Great Lion smirked.

"That was quite a display earlier."

Sansa's chin tilted. "I won't apologize. Your words and actions were atrocious."

To everyone's shock, Tywin Lannister threw back his head and laughed. When his green-gold eyes landed on Sansa again, Sandor saw respect there.

"No, I can't see you saying sorry for something you believe in. I won't apologize either, as we both know it wouldn't be sincere," Tywin said, and Sandor snorted. Tywin's eyes flicked to his.

"But I will say I underestimated Clegane and his ability to find a new team and adapt so quickly. You were not wrong, Ms. Stark. I made a miscalculation," Tywin said, as several stunned people looked on. Tywin never admitted to making a mistake. Ever.

Sansa wrapped her arms around Sandor. "Well, he belongs to the North now, Mr. Lannister."

Tywin held out his hand. "Tywin, please."

Sansa shook it.

“Sansa.”

Sandor has no idea what the fuck was going on between his girlfriend and Tywin but there was a weird undercurrent between them as if they respected one another now that they'd gone toe to toe with each other. 

"I looked into you, Sansa. What you are doing is impressive. I'm intrigued," he told her. "If you ever want to take your business to the next level, please let me know. I'd be interested in partnering with you."

Sandor felt Sansa's shock, but somehow she kept her face neutral. "I will."

"Father," Cersei hissed, shooting daggers at Sansa. "What are you doing?"

"Business" was Tywin's reply.

"With her?"

For the past two years, Sandor had been Joff's unofficial bodyguard on the ice. Sandor knew that Cersei had been pissed when he'd refused to take less money and stay with the Lions. He knew this because she'd tracked him and scolded him for not taking her father's first offer. Sandor might have said something to the effect of _Fuck Joffrey_ when he'd slammed the apartment door in her face. The made him enemy #1 in Cersei’s world and it looked like Sansa was taking up spot #2.

"Yes, Cersei, with her. She is poised to become a very influential and wealthy woman, and I made my fortune seizing such opportunities," Tywin said, voice bored and annoyed with his daughter.

Sandor was just about to suggest they move on when Ned, Robb and Ric all rounded the corner and came upon their tete a tete.

Sandor had rarely seen Ned Stark truly angry but watching him eye up Joffrey, the man's face went almost purple. Robert shuffled uncomfortably and put a hand on Cersei's back as if to move her along.

"What the fuck is this?" Ned seethed, glancing between Robert and Joffrey.

Robert said nothing.

"I told you what I'd do if I ever caught him," Ned said, pointing at Joff, "Talking to my daughter," Ned spoke directly to Robert, leaving a confused Jaime and Tywin wondering what was going on.

To that end, so did Sandor. There was something here that he didn't know, and it made him uncomfortable.

"Ned, I had no idea we'd run into her," Robert protested weakly. "And we're in a group. Plus, that was a few years ago when that … thing happened."

Ned’s face for even redder he was heaving in big gulping breaths of air as he pointed at Joffrey who only looked bored.

"I caught him talking about how he wanted my daughter, Robert. And if she wasn't interested, that he'd …” Ned faltered, unable to say the word. “You are a blind moron, Robert if you think he’s changed. He was twenty!" Ned roared.

Everyone reacted at once. Sansa pressed in closer to Sandor, shuddering. She knew her father and Robert had a massive falling out a few years ago, but her father had never said what it was about.

"I've got you," Sandor said, jaw tight. He knew that Joff slept with a lot of women. It was impossible not to hear him discussing it. The women threw themselves at him after the games, and there was a different and willing one each night. To hear that Joff had fixated on Sansa a few years ago turned his stomach.

Sandor glanced at the Lannister's. Tywin's jaw was as tight as his, and he looked shocked, along with Jaime.

Who didn't look shocked were Joffrey's parents, and Sandor wondered what the fuck their money and influence had covered up. It made him ill to think of Joff getting anywhere near Sansa.

"I'll fucking kill you if you even look at her," Sandor growled, and Joffrey blanched. Not to be outdone, Robb and Ric were right beside them, and Robb was all but frothing at the mouth, and Ric has his hand balled into tight fists.

"Let's go," Tywin said, herding his grandson away from the angry Stark's, Cleganes and Marbrands. One last glance back, and Sandor knew that the Old Lion would get to the bottom of Joffrey's antics.

Meanwhile, Sandor had a shaking Sansa on his hands. "Daddy?" she asked quietly, and Ned turned to her.

"Shit," he said, glancing at his sons. "Go. I need a moment with Sandor and Sansa."

Both Starks nodded and then took off, but not before pulling Sansa in for a hug. The Marbrand's also gave them space.

"Coach," Sandor said, using Ned's title and trying not to throttle the man.

It was clear Sansa had no idea this had happened, and that had made her vulnerable. What if she'd met Joff while she lived in King's Landing?

Ned looked at his daughter, his face ageing almost years before Sandor's eyes as he stumbled through an apology.

"But why didn't you tell me?"

Ned sighed. "It was so ugly, San and I didn't want to taint anything about hockey for you. He was awful and I wanted to protect you."

Sansa put her hands on her hips and glared at her father. "But you left me vulnerable. Can't you see that? What if I had a run-in with him? Or Cersei? It's not unheard of that she and I travel in the same circles. I had no idea Joff was such a creep."

Sandor had respected Ned Stark from the moment he'd stepped on the ice at Wintertown. The man had welcomed him openly and had accepted him into this organization and his home.

But this was almost too much to forgive. No matter what, Sandor was on Sansa's side, and his girlfriend was vibrating in rage.

"Sweetie, please, listen," Ned pleaded.

"No, I can't right now," she told her father, and Ned's eyes shot to Sandor.

"Give her space, Ned," Sandor said. He was speaking to him man to man now, not as coach and player. Sandor rested his big hand on Sansa's back, feeling her shake. "I'll take care of her."

Ned gave a shot, jerky nod and then spun around and disappeared down the hallway to find the dressing room. Sansa threw herself into Sandor’s arms, her sobs tearing at Sandor's heart.

"Does my entire family think I am useless?" she cried, and Sandor wrapped her in his strong arms.

"Hush now, little bird," he said, trying to calm her down.

"I mean, how could he not tell me? Warn me? Do you know how many times I almost ran into Joffrey in King’s Landing?" Sansa said, voice incredulous.

Sandor felt his blood chill at that thought. Ned had done Sansa a great disservice, and he wanted to yell at the man for the choices he made.

"It was wrong, Sansa," Sandor said, agreeing wholeheartedly with her. "You should have been told; you should have been warned."

She sucked in a deep breath, biting back the tears. "I hate feeling like I'm useless, Sandor," she whispered raggedly, and he pulled her close, cupping her cheeks.

"Sansa, you are one of the most competent women I know. No one thinks that."

Her blue eyes glittered. "Clearly, my father did."

"Baby, I'm not defending him. I'm not," Sandor said when he felt her back stiffen. "But he made a mistake and one I'm sure he's sorry for. Just give it some space, and then you two can talk it out. He's listened to us about Ramsay, hasn't he?"

Sansa nodded and then looked at him. "Maybe it's just because of you?"

"Ah, sweetheart, you know that's not true. Trust me, Sansa, your family loves you. And yeah, your Dad messed up and I'm not saying don't make him grovel, but they love you, baby. Just like I do."

Sandor could see Sansa weigh his words, and she finally gave a slow nod of her head. Then her pretty lip pouted, and Sandor groaned as it shot straight to his cock. Fuck, she was beautiful.

"I'm still angry, but," she said, her nose wrinkling adorably, "I want to enjoy watching you kick butt tonight. So, I'm going to push it out of my mind and think about it after you win tonight."

Sandor grinned. "Fucking hell, that's my girl," he said, leaning down to kiss her hard and fast. "I gotta run, babe. I'm already late."

She nodded. "Go be awesome. I'll go find your parents."

Those words still warmed something in Sandor, and he gave her one last kiss before he finally let her go and all but sprinted down the hallway to the dressing room. He had a fire in his blood tonight and an added incentive to make the Lions pay. He glanced back and saw Sansa standing there in his jersey, and she gave him a little wave before he forced himself to pull open the door to the dressing room and get his head in the game.

Sandor met Ned's eyes, and the man looked wrecked. He walked quickly to Sandor's side.

"How is she?"

"Pissed," Sandor said, not pulling any punches. "And rightly so."

Ned accepted those words stoically and nodded. "I messed up. I was just trying to…"

Sandor held up a hand. "It's not me you owe an apology to Ned. Save it for her, but just so we're clear, I'm on her side." Sandor paused. "Always."

Ned stilled, and then a wide grin split his face as he clapped Sandor on the back. "I've waited for a long time for someone to be worthy of her. I'm glad she loves you, Sandor."

"Are we playing hockey or are we in a fucking book club?" Bronn complained, and Sandor turned and snarled at him.

"Calm your tits down, Blackwater," Sandor said, shaking his head and getting ready for the game.

"What did that cunt do now?" Bronn said when Sandor took a seat next to him. Their cubbies were next to one another in the dressing room. Neither one had to say the name to know Bronn was talking about Joffrey.

"Fucker fixated on her," was all Sandor said, and Bronn gave him a knowing look.

"Payback then?" Bronn said, and his grin was anything but warm. Sandor grunted out an affirmative, neither one of them seeing that Rickon was sitting there, taking in every word.

When they were finally dressed, Bronn clapped Sandor on the back, readying them for warm-up. "Alright then, let's go lion hunting," he said, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Sandor threw back his head with a bark of laughter. "Aye, let's hunt some fucking lions."

* * *

_Sansa_

Sansa slowly made her way to where Mama B and Addam were waiting for her. When she got close, Mama opened her arms and Sansa willingly let herself be enfolded in her warm hug.

"Oh my dear, sometimes Dad's don't make the best choices," Mama whispered in her ear, eerily reminiscent of what Sandor had said to her as well.

Sansa sniffed. She loved her Dad. For years, he'd been her hero, so strong and handsome, so in love with her mother. She'd lived her entire life with their marriage as the hallmark for what she wanted in her life, which is why it sucked to feel like he hadn't trusted her enough with the information about Joffrey. It was pure dumb luck that Sansa had never run into him.

"I know."

"Come now, dear, let's go get a cup of coffee, and you can show me the rest of the rink," Mama B said, linking her arm with Sansa's.

"You have to be one of the best people I know," Sansa murmured to Sandor's mom.

She waved a hand. "No, I'm not. But I'll let you in on a little secret," she said, winking at Sansa, and Sansa felt some of her anger dissipate.

"We can be angry at the entire world for the hand we're dealt, and in the end, we're still left holding those cards," she said, a tear coming to her eye. Sansa remembered that Sandor had shared that they had lost their only son to cancer when he'd been a young child. "I loved my boy, Sansa, more than anyone. And it still wasn't enough to keep him here. But I made a choice. I knew he wouldn't want me to live a bitter, angry life. I worked hard at my grief, owned my anger, and I was ready when Sandor came into our lives. Ready for a second chance at being a Mom."

Sansa felt silly, then, being angry at Ned, given what the Marbrand's had been through.

"I don't know what to say," Sansa said, as they made their way to the main concourse.

Addam smiled gently at her. "No one does. What do you say when the worst possible thing happens to a parent? It's unnatural to bury a child. Children are supposed to outlive their parents, not the other way around."

"How are you two so awesome?" Sansa said in awe of them.

Both of them laughed at her. "Lots of therapy."

"Sandor said he'd go," Sansa blurted out suddenly, and then blushed as they both stopped and looked at her. "To therapy, to help deal with his past."

Mama B clutched a hand to her heart while her other hand gripped Sansa's. "Truly?"

Sansa nodded. "I think it's good. I told him I could do some as well, so we know how to deal with things. My Mom's cancer, his Mom's death. His father and brother."

"Oh my word," Mama B said, pulling Sansa in for a hug. "You are a miracle worker, Sansa."

"I'm not. It was his suggestion, his idea. He's really trying. I know he wants a family," Sansa said, shyly. They had been dating for a month, and things had moved so quickly, but her mother always said when you knew, you knew. Still, they weren't even engaged, yet, and to be talking about children was a big step in any relationship. "I just mean that he wants to be the best he can be for when that does happen."

Both Addam and Brenda nodded at her, and Sansa could see that they were pleased with the progress Sandor had made.

"I'm proud of you both. No relationship is easy, Sansa, but a man like Sandor comes with extra baggage. I love that boy something fierce, but even I know he has some things to work on."

"He does, but he's trying so hard," Sansa said, tears forming in her eyes. She was going to be a mess if they continued, and thankfully, Addam guided them to access the door up to the luxury suites. Sansa introduced Addam and Brenda to the security guard, and they had their passes scanned. Soon enough, Sansa was opening the door to the Stark family box and was pleased to see Hoster, Mini, and her Mom already there.

They welcomed the Marbrand's warmly, and Sansa took a seat to watch the team warm-up leaving the others to their small talk. She needed space to sort through things in her head.

Even from this distance, her guy was huge, and Sansa could see that Sandor was dialled in tonight. There was something so satisfying in knowing that Sandor was hers, and she saw his eyes glance up and find her. She gave him a little wave and saw his accompanying smirk.

Had she ever had someone who was so in her corner as Sandor was? He was hers all the way, and it was a heady feeling and one that she wrapped around her as she watched the team skate and shoot on Tormund.

Brienne was scheduled to watch the game tonight as well, and Sansa wondered when her bodyguard might admit to liking the wild goaltender. Sansa knew the team had missed him when he'd been out, and they were more confident with him back in net.

Of course, Sansa also let her eyes slide down to the visitor's end of the rink when she picked out Joffrey Baratheon. He was hardly any larger than Rickon, and she wondered at his ego. Sansa couldn't remember him being that good from years past, and she didn't even recall him from their pre-season games against the lions.

There was Jaime, standing on the bench, watching over his team. He seemed so different from his family that Sansa wondered what his story was.

Cersei had been every bit the witch that Sansa had heard she was. Her temper was legendary in King's Landing, and more than one designer, make-up artist and photographer had either refused to work with her or left her presence crying.

Tywin was a mystery. The man was rich and powerful. And insightful. He knew how to play people and wasn't afraid to use whatever means necessary to get his way. But Sansa thought that he also respected strength and funnily enough, she believed him when he said he'd be interested in a business deal with her.

As the sounds and sights of the rink washed over her, Sansa allowed her mind to drift to her business. She knew she had some big, serious, potentially life-altering decisions to make.

MiSa was doing well. Very, very well. So well, that Royce, her COO, was subtly pressuring her to decide which direction she wanted to take things. Right now, her cramped little office, the warehouse and the manufacturers that made her makeup were all in King's Landing. That was problematic if Sansa wanted to expand. While she could rent an apartment down in King's Landing, and travel back and forth, an idea had been forming to move everything North.

Sansa knew she needed a Chief Financial officer, as well as an office manager to help her with MiSa. She hadn't been exaggerating when she'd told Sandor about the profit margins on makeup, and right now, hers was selling incredibly well. Her degrees had taught her to strike while the iron was hot, and right now, Sansan was smoking. Sansa had no problem turning that popularity into profit.

She knew that would mean many long hours and a tremendous amount of work. She hoped that Sandor was alright with that. So far, she'd been quite available to both him and her mother. But to make this really work, to really get this off the ground, Sansa would have to put in a lot more hours than she currently was.

Her phone buzzed, and she saw a text from Pod, who was tracking her latest IG picture of her and the Clegane's. Once again, Sansan was trending. That was yet another aspect of her business she needed to pay more attention to. Podrick deserved a raise and a new title. The man was working almost non-stop and was incredible at his job.

When the lights dimmed, and the Zamboni came on the ice to clean it before the start of the game, Sansa realized she had been doing some serious woolgathering.

"Are you alright, Sansa?" Cat asked, laying a hand on Sansa's shoulder. Sansa wanted to ask if her mother had known about Joffrey, but the tired and pinched look in her mother’s eyes stilled her tongue.

"Yup. Just thinking about some work stuff, Mom."

Catelyn gave her a weak smile. "Alright."

Maybe her family was slightly overprotective of her, but when Sansa thought about the alternative, about having a family that didn't care, she realized it wasn't the worst thing. Her Dad had messed up, but she could forgive him. Especially if he grovelled a bit first.

With the Zamboni done, Sansa felt the anticipation curl in her stomach. The rink was filled, and there was a buzz in the air. Opening night was always filled with so much expectation, and they hadn't had a winning team in the North since her father had played. Sansa knew that a lot of those expectations now rested on her boyfriend’s board shoulders.

The Lions came onto the ice first, booed by the fans until the music changed, and the PA announcer called the Wolves out.

"And now, your 2019/2020, Wintertown WOLVES!!!!!" he bellowed at the lights flashed and the team spilled on the ice, the music pumping. It all made Sansa's heart race, and her eyes were glued to Sandor down on the ice.

He was so supremely confident out there, just a huge machine built for this game. Sansa blushed as she thought about that body that had been over her, around her, under her, just a few hours ago, and what that man looked like naked.

And he was all hers. Sansa knew this to her soul. Sandor Clegane was hers.

She saw him stop to speak to Ric, probably calming her little brother down, and then tap Tormund on the pads before the starting lineup took to the blue line.

Sandor's helmet was off, and he was shuffling his feet, a scowl on his face as he glared at the Lion's team. When the PA guy announced his name, his cheer was the biggest, and even though his expression didn't change, Sansa knew he'd be proud of how much they loved him already in the North.

His little wave to the crowd sent them into a frenzy, and Sansa knew that her guy was ready for this. Sandor Clegane might have been a star in Lannisport, playing for Tywin, but up here, he was bigger than that. He was a superstar and they’d love him here until the day he retired.

Sansa knew then that there was only one option for her business. It would all come north; warehouse, manufacturer, producers, offices. All of it. This was her home; this was their home, and Sansa knew they'd never leave.

As if sensing her choice, Sandor's eyes darted up to hers, right before puck drop. It was a subtle tilt of his head, but Sansa's answering grin had his shoulders relax. Their future was here, in Wintertown, and nowhere else. She'd be bringing jobs and opportunities with her when she moved her business here and investing in their future. And she wanted roots here — deep, solid roots where she and Sandor would build their new life together. Where one day they could have a family.

Feeling both more settled and the race of excited anticipation course through her body, Sansa settled into to watch the game knowing the choices she had made tonight would benefit her family for a long, long time to come. It had been something that had been weighing on her, almost unconsciously, and now that she'd made her choice, she felt that weight lift.

She cheered when Tormund made his first save, and watched as Joffrey took hit after hit. They were all clean, but it was more than clear that a message was being sent to the mouthy forward on the Lions.

Of course, he retaliated and got a penalty, putting the Wolves on the first power play of the night, and Sansa roared her approval when Sandor's booming point shot found the back of the net.

The camera panned to her, cheering wildly in her family box, catching her in his jersey and Sansa saw his little grin.

When Joffrey was out of the sin bin, Rickon was next to take a run at him, and the two were chirping at one another. Sansa's heart swelled as her little brother defended her honour, and watched as Bronn gave Ric a rough pat on the back when he made it to the bench. Her father also looked on approvingly at Rickon's actions, and Sansa knew that her little brother had won the respect of his teammates.

The Lions, however, were fired up, and they scored late in the first period, so it was a 1-1 tie going into the first intermission.

Needing to move, Sansa ducked out of the box, to walk the hallway, and ran, of course, right into Tywin.

"Ms. Stark," he all but purred at her, catching her by the elbow and steadying her.

"You're doing this on purpose," Sansa said with a laugh, straightening herself. "And I thought we agreed to first names."

Tywin smirked and Sansa shook her head at the sheer arrogance of the man. She had to admit, he wore it well, even if it wasn't her taste. 

"I assure you, I am not," he told her. Sansa studied the man they called the Great Lion. She'd written a paper on him while completing her business degree, not that she'd tell him that. Before there had been a cocky arrogance to him, while now, he looked slightly uncomfortable.

"I want to assure you that I had no idea what my loathsome grandson felt towards you. Had I known…" Tywin trailed off and looked away.

Sansa had no reason to believe that Tywin would have done anything differently, given what he'd done to Sandor. But somehow, the truth came through. His gold-green eyes swung back to hers.

"You have my personal assurance that this matter will be looked into. Joffrey will get the help he needs, and he will not bother you, Ms. Stark."

Oddly enough, Sansa believed Tywin and felt relief course through her. The last thing she needed, on top of Ramsay and Harry, was a problem with Joffrey Baratheon.

"Thank you," she told Tywin, sincerity lacing her every word.

"Have you solved your other problem? The one that required Baratheon security?" he inquired, and Sansa shook her head.

"Unfortunately, no."

Sansa heard the PA announcer call the teams back onto the ice, and she flashed Tywin a grin.

"Good luck tonight," she told him, and he gave a curt nod. She left the richest man in Westeros standing in the hallway of the Wintertown arena, hands in his pockets. And if she wasn't mistaken, looking quite lonely.

Sansa felt like it was a sign, a reminder that no matter how much money you accumulated, did it mean a thing if you were alone at the end of the day?

She slipped back into the suite, and happily chatted with her and Sandor's family, as they watched the Wolves eventually skate to a hard-fought 3-2 win. The camera found her again and again, and Sansa smiled and waved. She knew that Sandor would see and hopefully understand that she was doing alright.

After the game, when he was the first star due to his one goal and two assists, she took the Marbrand's downstairs to wait for him. As usual, a few bunnies were waiting for the players and Mama B tsk'd at them and their tight outfits.

"Have some self-respect," she muttered, making Sansa giggle as they waited with the other wives and girlfriends. Sandor was quick tonight and the first out, and his face lit up when he saw Sansa waiting there as if he still couldn't quite believe she would be. Sansa couldn't help herself as she all but ran to him, loving when he swung her up into his arms.

"Good game tonight, baby," she whispered into his ear, and he rumbled out a laugh.

"You good?" he asked, worried only for her. Sansa's heart melted. This big, strong, scary hockey player was a huge softie when it came to her.

"I am."

Sandor put her down, taking her hand in his as he approached his parents.

"Good game, son," Addam said, pulling Sandor in for a hug. They weren't quite so awkward at it now, and Sansa beamed at the two of them.

Mama B also got a hug, as Sandor picked up the tiny woman and spun her around. Sansa heard her say, "Oh Sandor, that was marvellous," and she caught the massive smile on his face.

With that taken care of, Sandor ushered them out of the arena. Ned had given him time and space to get Sansa out of here, saying he'd speak with his daughter tomorrow. When Sandor passed along the message, Sansa had simply nodded. She appreciated that her Dad hadn't pushed her tonight, and knew she'd be in a much better mind frame to speak with him tomorrow.

They arrived home and let Sweetie out. She raced around the backyard, gathering her balls, and Sandor stood there, throwing them for her until she finally slowed down. When he came back inside, Sansa was waiting on the couch. She wasn't quite sure what he needed after a game. They were high adrenaline events, and this had been the first one of the season.

"Waiting up for me?" he said, arching an eyebrow.

Sansa shrugged. "Not sure what you need right now."

Understanding came into his grey eyes, and Sandor tugged her to her feet. "You," was all he answered, and Sansa wound herself around him as he carried her upstairs to their bedroom. "Just you, little bird."

Her heart felt like bursting with that admission.

"Fuck, I loved seeing you wearing my jersey tonight," he told her, peeling it off her body and tossing it on the floor. He made quick work of her t-shirt and tank top until she was only in a lacy bra.

Sansa's hands were equally busy, tugging at the suit and stripping him down.

"I need you," she told him, body aching, ready for him even though they'd barely touched.

"I'm here," he said, nipping at her neck, trailing love bites down her skin until he sucked a nipple in his mouth, his big hand skimming down her smooth stomach and dipping inside her pants to find her wet.

"Sandor," she moaned, bucking against his fingers as he sunk them inside her.

"Trying to go slow here, little bird."

She bucked again. "I don't need slow. I just need you. Now," she demanded, and he pulled back, looking in her eyes. Seeing that her need matched his, he had them naked and himself sheathed inside her in record time.

"Fuck, what you feel like," he muttered as he thrust inside her.

Sansa had no words. There was nothing like Sandor filling her, no other experience she could compare it to. Sex with Harry had never been like this, and she knew Sandor had wrecked her for any other man. He pounded into her, filling her again and again, just this side of it almost being painful, but not. It felt so damn good, and as she felt the orgasm well up inside her, she clutched at him.

"I'm so close," she moaned, and he grunted and found her little bundle of nerves at the apex of her legs, rubbing her.

"Come, baby, come all over me," he commanded her and Sansa let it all go, the sensations rushing over her as she squeezed down on him and came in a flood, barely recognizing that he was filling her up as his orgasm overtook him.

Giggling when he all but collapsed onto her, Sansa eventually made her way to the bathroom to clean up and brush her teeth. Comfortable naked, Sandor wandered in and picked up his toothbrush, so they stood side by side, brushing their teeth.

Sansa was grinning like a fool.

"What?"

"We're so domestic," she said, laughing at them, and he reached out and smacked her butt.

"Careful or I'll wife you so hard you won't know what hit you," Sandor joked back.

Sansa felt her cheeks warm, and her eyes go wide before she said, "Yes, please."

He stilled and reached out to pull her close to him. "I'm not asking you like this, Sansa. Fuck that. You deserve something better than this. But fuck if that doesn't make me smile."

She rose and kissed him on the lips, tasting toothpaste. "I'll hold you to it, big guy."

Then she wiggled her ass as she gave him the bathroom. "Not fucking helping," he bellowed after she and Sansa laughed, opening the door so Sweetie could come inside their bedroom and then crawling into bed. Within moments, Sandor was there, and she snuggled deep into his arms.

"Night little spoon," he whispered into her ear.

"Night big spoon," she quipped back and felt his chest rumbled out a laugh.

"Love you."

"I love you."


	17. Chapter 17

_ Sansa  _

Sansa sat in a t-shirt of Sandor's along with comfy yoga pants, her slippers and a blanket, staring blankly towards Winterfell. There was a rapidly cooling cup of coffee in her hands as she cradled her phone and thought about family. And what family meant. What it demanded of you. And how it could let you down.

The thought of her family, her father specifically, had made so angry last night, that she'd been prepared to either freeze him out or lay into him, letting him have all her righteous anger.

But when she'd woken this morning, wrapped in Sandor's strong arms and had decided to spend more time tracing the tattoos on his magnificent body. That's when she'd realized that some of the tattoos covered scars. And not just scars, but a testament to how hard his life had been. 

"What was this?" she asked her lips on a puckered circle scar that was now covered by a smattering of stars that made a constellation.

His grey eyes were smoky and wary as he gazed down at her.

"Cigarette," he grunted, and her heart clenched.

She willed the tears back and kept going, her hands finding an odd spiral one on his side that was covered by a mandala that was beautiful and intricate and must have taken hours to complete.

"Stove element," he said before she could ask, and she felt like she might be sick.

On and on it went, where she found the evidence of the trauma that had been inflicted on his body. Not everything was from his father or brother. There were many from hockey, fights, broken bones and nicks, but over and over, he'd taken back his body by covering it with art that meant something to him. It had been a way of exerting control over something he’d had no control over, and she loved how strong this man was. Strong and steady and all hers.

After she'd finished exploring, she'd pushed him down on the bed gently, before settling herself on him, riding them both to a mind-blowing orgasm as they'd gazed into each other's eyes, no words needing to be exchanged, hands locked. They moved as one.

"I love you enough to make up for those that were supposed to," she whispered into his ear and heard him grunt. He turned and captured her lips and wiped away her tears.

"Sansa don't, love. I survived it." His voice was low and rough and she knew he had mostly dealt with it. Still, it was hard to imagine him so vulnerable.

"I know. I know you did. I ache for the little boy that shouldn't have known any of this hurt, Sandor," she told him.

His big arms tightened around her. "Ours won't."

Her breath hitched, and she tilted her head to meet his eyes. "No, ours won't." She loved thinking about children with Sandor, and it thrilled her that he spoke so openly and comfortably about them and a future together.

"Come on, lazy bird, time to shower and then you need to speak with Ned," Sandor said, knowing she was dreading her phone call. He picked her up and brought her to the shower, taking her again there, before she was finally wrung dry and clean, where she’d finally dressed and now found herself sitting on the terrace outside their bedroom.

Sansa was brought out of her thoughts from earlier when Sweetie bumped her hand and whined.

Sansa glanced back and saw Sandor standing at the door, watching over her. Her heart swelled with how much this man loved her. He was so protective without being overbearing.

"Hi," she said softly, and he crossed over the threshold to the terrace to join her and the little outdoor loveseat they had there. Sansa put her legs in his lap and he settled a hand there, rubbing at her feet.

"I would have killed for your family when I was a kid," he started to say, looking towards Winterfell as well. Then he turned back and shrugged. "I would have thought you were the princess in the castle." He rumbled out a laugh. "Fucking hells, little bird, that's what I did think when you showed up at the rink that first day, that you were a princess.”

"The day you were an ass," she said, digging her foot into his thigh.

He grinned sheepishly.

"I got you in the end, didn't I?"

She threw her head back and laughed. "You did."

"What I'm saying is that you guys are the gold standard, Sansa. Yeah, your Dad fucked up. But it came from a place of love. Trust me when I say, I know what 'parental involvement' from a place of anger and rage feels like."

Sansa leaned up and cupped his cheek, the scarred one, of course. "You are such a good man," she told him.

Sandor pressed a kiss to her palm.

"I work on it. Every fucking day, Sansa. That's my promise to you."

They stayed like that for a moment longer, before Sandor rose and kissed her lips.

"Call you, Dad, baby. Make things better."

She nodded. "Thank you."

"Come find us when you're done. Robb and Dace said they were stopping by in a while."

She nodded again and watched Sandor leave the room, Sweetie looking between them before staying with Sansa.

"And you're such a good girl for Mommy, aren't you," Sansa said, missing Sandor's smirk as she baby talked their dog.

Finally gathering her spine, Sansa dialled her Dad's number. For so long, her father had been her hero, and even though she was closer with her Mom than her father, she loved her Dad. This had dented his shine more than a little bit and she hated that.

He picked up right away, which meant he'd been waiting for her call.

"Hi, Daddy," Sansa said softly.

"Ahhh, San, sweetheart, I'm so glad you called. Don't say anything. Let me try to explain myself," he said before she could go on.

She held her tongue and let him walk her through his thoughts at the time. She was impressed that he'd all but cut off his friendship with Robert for her. Never in her life would she have expected that from her father.

"I didn't think I mattered that much," she said quietly into the phone and was met with stunned silence.

Her father sucked in a pained breath.

"Oh, sweetheart. I've failed you, haven't I?" Ned said. "Sansa, I love you. Deeply. I'm so proud of you. You went out, on your own, following your dreams. I tell everyone about you, sweetheart."

"Really?"

"Gods, yes, San. I mean, I know I was disappointed when you wanted to figure skate instead of play hockey, but that was me wanting more time with you. I knew once you took to those pretty white skates and sparkly costumes, I'd lose time with you. There was no way hockey could compete in your heart with figure skating. And it meant so much to you and your mom, I just backed off.”

"Oh," she said. She'd always thought that had been the moment when her father has chosen his favourites; Robb, Arya and Ric.

When she told him that, she heard him let out a muffled cry and cursed himself for ten times the fool. She giggled then, recalling Sandor's words. Her family was the gold standard.

"Ok, you're forgiven. But to make it up to me, you owe me three Dad-Daughter dates," she told him, and she heard his excited reply.

"Of course! That would be awesome, Sansa," Ned said enthusiastically. They talked back and forth for a time, and finally, Ned suggested a night where they went and listened to live music and grabbed what he called a 'fancy coffee.' Sansa was beaming by the time she hung up and hugged Sweetie hard.

"Daddy is so smart, isn't he. We should go find him, shouldn't we, baby?"

Sweetie's answering grin was everything, and Sansa practically bounced downstairs, finding the Marbrand's spread out over the first floor, with Addam, Robb and Sandor on the couch in the great room watching sports highlights.

Sansa threw herself into Sandor's arms, kissing him soundly on the lips. "You're a brilliant and sexy man," she purred to him, watching as his eyes widened.

"Fuck, San. I'm your brother,” came Robb’s pained words from beside them.

Sansa turned and stuck her tongue out a Robb and then wiggled around on Sandor's lap a bit more, kissing him again.

Since he was wearing athletic shorts and she was in thin yoga pants, she felt his dick harden immediately, and she grinned, wiggling off of him and blowing him a kiss.

"Dace is in the kitchen, San!" Robb called out to her.

She laughed as Sandor grumbled and adjusted himself.

"You're a witch, little bird."

"You love it big guy," she called back and heard him say, just before she was out of earshot, _“fucking right, I love you.” _

Grinning, her day off to a much better start than she anticipated, Sansa found Mama B and Dacey sharing a coffee and chatting at the kitchen table.

Sansa went to the Keurig to make herself a cup, shamelessly eavesdropping on their conversation.

"I love this one," Mama B was saying, pointing to a wolf and a bear on Dacey's upper arm. Her friend was in her typical short-sleeved t-shirt, and it showed off her beautiful toned and inked arms.

"I got that when I graduated high school," Dacey was saying, smiling at Sansa when she took a seat at the table with them.

"Her ink is beautiful isn't it," Sansa said, earning a surprised look from Dacey and a nod from Mama B.

"Just like Sandy's. It tells a story, that's for sure," Mama B agreed.

"I didn't know you approved of my tats, Sansa," Dace said, giving her friend an odd look.

Sansa frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, you're kind of the Queen of clean, babe. I mean, you're all designer labels and perfect makeup and kick-ass makeup with your double degrees. And I'm the tatted-up bartender."

Sansa stiffened. "Are you calling me a snob?"

Dacey immediately shook her head and bit her lip.

"Gods, no, San. Fuck, I'm sorry. No, it's my shit. Look, I've know you guys since high school. But you guys were always like the golden family and mine's trailer trash. Literal trailer trash. I love my Mama, Sansa, but my mother and your mother are never going to run in the same circles."

Sansa wanted to be hurt; she wanted to be mad and snap at her friend for thinking that way, but she saw real fear there. Instead, she thought of Sandor and Sweetie and how sometimes a tough exterior held a soft, gooey center.

Sansa reached for Dacey's hand. "Is that why you've kept Robb at arm's length?"

Tears spilled out of Dacey's eyes. "Partly," she whispered. "I know that makes me a jerk, but a part of me can't help but wonder if he's just slumming it with me. And I know I'll never be good enough for him. And then there's a part of me that wonders what makes me so different from all those other women? Once we sleep together, he'll just dump me and move on, and then I'll be left picking up the pieces. And golden boy Robb would have just scored another notch on his bedpost.”

Sansa stroked Dacey's hands, unsure what to say. She was just about to open her mouth when she looked up and saw Robb standing there mouth open. Sandor was behind him, and clearly, they'd heard everything.

Dacey turned, coloured when she saw Robb and started to push her chair back, when Robb was there, on his knees in front of her.

"Fuck, Dace. Did I make you feel this way?" he whispered, cupping her face softly.

She shook her head. "No. It's me. I'm in my own head. You've done everything right."

Robb snorted. "Obviously not if you have any doubts about how I feel about you. Dacey, I fucking love you. I've loved you since I first saw you in the bar and you were too much woman for me. I just hope you're willing to give me a chance and look past all the dumb shit I've done. Fuck baby; you're it."

Dacey was sobbing, and Sansa and Mama B rose to give them some privacy, just as Sansa saw Robb pull Dacey into his arms.

"Dacey, I fucking love you, baby. And I don't give a single fuck about where you come from. I love you," he was telling her, again and again, as if saying it on repeat would help her believe it.

"I love you too, and if you screw me over, I'll cut your dick off, Robb Stark."

Sansa heard her brother rumble out a laugh as he swung her around.

“That’s my girl.”

"Oh, they're so lovely," Mama B said, clapping her hands as Sandor shook his head at her.

"You're so nosy," he told her, and she shushed him, as Sansa went to his arms. He brushed his lips across hers, and she smiled as she wrapped herself up in his strong arms.

"Love you, little bird," he whispered to her.

"Love you too, Sandor."

"Oh, you two are so sweet! We should have a little party here tomorrow, Sandy. For your teammates," she was saying as Sandor rolled his eyes at her.

"What's that look for?" she whispered.

"Once she gets an idea in her head, it won't leave," Sandor told her. "Watch."

Mama B had bustled back into the kitchen, clapping her hands. "Oh, I'm so happy for you two. Now Robb, put your girl down. She's coming shopping with Sansa and me."

Sansa peeked inside and saw a dazed expression on her friend's face.

"What? Where?" Dacey said, still high from Robb’s declaration of love.

"Shopping. We need supplies. Sandy's going to throw a little party for the hockey team," Mama B announced, and Sansa heard Sandor groan.

"Mama stop," he said, his voice low and growly, but she just kept ongoing.

"Text your friends, Jeyne and Wyn, Sansa, and tell them we'll pick them up along the way. Robb and Sandy, I expect you to invite the boys from the hockey team."

Sansa looked towards Sandor and saw him scowl, but somehow, she knew he’d never say no to her and she loved him even more for that.

Robb rocked back on his heels, a huge grin on his face. "Oh Sandy and I will take care of it, Mama B," he said, winking at Sandor.

"For fuck sakes," Sandor muttered, causing Mama B to give him an arched eyebrow.

"Sandor Clegane! I may be in your house, but I am still your mother. Language, young man," she said before she palmed the keys to his new SUV. She rubbed her hands together. "I've been dying to take this baby for a test drive," she said, herding Sansa and Dacey towards the garage, as Sandor muttered something about not scratching it.

"We'll be back in a couple of hours. Clean your house!" She called, and then they were in the SUV, and Sansa sat there, both impressed and stunned by that display.

"I want to be you when I grow up," she said as Mama B adjusted the seat and then the mirrors and then expertly back the SUV out of the driveway.

She let out a little giggle and fluffed her hair.

"Men are simple creatures, Sansa. Sex, food and home are all most of them need." Then she winked at Sansa. "And I think you've got two out of the three. We just need to get you cooking, dear."

Dacey was laughing when Mama caught her eye in the mirror. "And how are things between you and Robb, hunny? Did you finally get over yourself?"

Sansa choked back a laugh, as Dacey shook her head.

"You're a menace, Mama," Dace said, giving her directions to Jeyne and then Wyn's house.

When all four women were in SUV, Mama B clapped with delight.

"Oh, I've always wanted daughters! This is so exciting," she said as she asked for directions to Costco.

"Mama, how many people do you plan on feeding?" Wyn asked, impressed by her driving skills. She’d neatly maneuvered the big SUV around a little BWM that was going too slow for her liking.

Mama B gave her a knowing look. "They're hockey players, dear. And the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Especially my Sandy." She winked at Sansa, who blushed but not before Jeyne piped up.

"That's not what Sansa says. I think the way to Sandor's heart is through his dick if the amount of sex he and San are having is any indication."

Sansa turned to hiss at Jeyne, her oldest friend when Mama B threw her head back and laugh.

"Well, yes, dear, if you want to be crass that’s most likely true. And we all know that these two can barely keep their hands off one another. You should hear the screams that come from their room.”

Sansa wanted to sink into the seat. This was both the best and worst conversation she'd ever been part of. Her friends were dying, wolf-whistling and laughing at her, while her face went red as a tomato.

"I mean, have you seen that man? He has to be stacked,” Wyn hummed in appreciation, and Sansa groaned.

"Seriously, guys? That's my boyfriend. Can we not talk about how big his… junk is.”

"But you said he’s huge, San. Yum!" Dacey said, joining in.

Sansa rolled her eyes, turning in her seat, giving her friend and evil smile.

"So Dace, are you finally going to give Robb a chance? We all know you've been after him for years. Maybe the hype won't live up to it."

Dacey blushed. "Well, let's just say I've had a preview and if his oral skills are anything to go by…."

Sansa groaned while the others hooted and clapped.

"Bronn's like the energizer bunny in bed," Jeyne blurted out and then hid behind her hands while everyone burst into laughter. "And surprisingly well endowed since he’s kind of skinny in a weird built way," she added.

Everyone turned to look at Wyn, who arched an elegant eyebrow.

"What?" she said. "I'm not sleeping with Jon. I work for the Wolves now and he is a player. It would be messy."

Dacey, Jeyne and Sansa took one look at each other and burst out laughing.

"You bet it would be messy."

"Especially if you don't use a condom," Jeyne added knowingly.

"Sandor and I don't, and I had no idea how much better it felt. I made Harry wrap up his tiny penis every time we had sex," Sansa said and then clamped her hand over her mouth and looked at Mama B, who smiled serenely.

"You're an adult, and so is he. And let's not mince words. I want grandbabies, Sansa. Lots of them. And as long as my boy is doling out the orgasms, I don't think you have a thing to worry about."

The others howled in laugher as Sansa's mouth dropped open.

"He wants like five kids," she blurted out. "And so do I. I've known him a month. Are we crazy?"

Mama B was thankfully pulling into the Costco parking lot. She just shook her head.

"Sansa love, when you know, you know. You and Sandor are meant for one another. I've never seen my boy, so in love before. Nor have I ever seen him so willing to work on himself. You bring the joy back into his eyes."

On that sappy note, the five women spilled from the car and got a crash course on how to plan a party for a WHL hockey team with less than twenty-four hours' notice. Mama B was like a general as they went through the store, ordering them about, and Sansa shook her head in wonder at her until they finally, three hours later, pulled back into their home, the sheer amount of food in the SUV threatening to drown Dacey in the back seat.

Sandor, Robb and Addam, along with Rickon, who'd shown up sometime when they'd been gone, helped pack and an enormous amount of food into the garage, and then everyone took off to get ready for the game.

Exhausted, Sansa tugged Sandor up the stairs to their bedroom.

Sansa wrapped her arms around Sandor and kissed him deeply, and ache low and persistent in her core. She wanted this man. Now.

"Just so you know, your mother knows we're not using condoms, she wants lots of grandbabies, and she said to give me lots of orgasms."

Sandor stood there, looking slightly shocked and then shook his head.

"I don't even fucking want to know," he muttered before he put her over his shoulder and then dumped her on the bed.

"Strip, little bird. I need you," Sandor commanded, and Sansa stood and wiggled out of her clothing until she was fully naked.

He'd done the same, and her mouth watered at the picture he made. Sansa dropped to her hands and knees and crawled across the bed until she reached him. She saw the bead of pre-cum there and licked, moaning at his taste, before taking him deep, working him inside her mouth, her other hand around his shaft.

Sandor carded his hands through her hair, keeping her pinned on his dick while she sucked him, loving what he felt like. There was such power in having him like this, and Sansa loved it. She was lost in her little world when he swung her around, grabbing her by the hips. He knelt, swept his tongue through her soaking folds and then stood.

"Can I have you like this, Sansa?" he said, voice low and guttural, and she glanced back over her shoulder, seeing him barely holding on.

She wiggled her ass, and he growled, and she felt another gush of need raced through her.

"Take me," she whispered, blushing a bit, before he lined his cock up and drove into her, hard. He filled her up, so full she had no idea how he fit and still, she could feel the care he took. It was rougher than they'd ever made love before, but still, underneath it, all was the love and care she'd come to associate with Sandor.

He pounded away, whispering naughty things in her ear, as one of his large hands reached for her sensitive nipples until eventually he took pity on her and played with her clit. That was all it took to set Sansa off, and she bucked wildly against him, tightening to the point of pure pleasure as her orgasm washed over her, and Sandor followed her over, filling her full of his come and bellowing out her name.

They collapsed in a sweaty mess on the bed, panting and gazing at one another before Sandor finally found the energy to take them both to the shower.

Afterwards, Sansa kissed him on the lips, leaving him to nap, as she snuck out of the room to catch up on some work and see how the party planning was coming along.

And for once when she exited the bedroom, she held her head high, even though the Marbrand’s would have heard exactly what they were doing as she entered the kitchen.

Adam winked at her and Mama B beamed, and Sansa had a feeling if she weren't careful, they'd be swapping out her birth control pills for placebos.

The crazy part was, Sansa wouldn't mind all that much. She knew she loved Sandor. She knew where this way leading. And she couldn't wait until they were in a position to start their family.

* * *

_ Sandor _

Someone must have talked to the Lions, because the team that they'd beaten last night wasn't the same team they were facing tonight. In fact, the Wolves were down 2-1 with five minutes to go in the third period.

Sandor knew it was only the second game of the season, but fuck that if he was going to lose to his old team. He took a quick break and was then back on the ice, scanning and looking for someone to fuck up so he'd have a chance.

He took a hard hit in the corner, got the puck over to Gendry, rolled his shoulders and then skated up the ice before Bronn turned it over, and it was dumped back into their end.

Cursing to himself, he went back to get it again, seeing that the Lions were changing. He glanced down the ice, and dug in, finding that extra gear and turned on the jets, skating smoothly to center.

Generally, as the defenseman, he'd either dump it into the offensive zone for the forwards to dig it out, or he'd pass it up, but there was room, and Sandor stickhandled his way over the blue line before he saw the goalie cheat to his one side. Sandor stopped, pivoted and leaned into his shot, watching at the boomer from the high slot fooled the Lion's goal and found the back of the net.

The crowd in the arena went wild, and the best part when he scored, was that the cameraman always found Sansa. She was going wild in the family booth, his jersey proudly on display. When they caught Sandor looking at her, she blew him a kiss. He didn't even fucking care about the guys bugging the shit out of him when he went back to the bench.

The finished regulation tied 2-2 and prepared for three on three overtime. Sandor fucking hated circus time. Hockey was five on five except if you took a penalty. This three vs three overtime was meant for hot doggers and forwards, and often the d-men looked like tools and were blamed for losing a game. And if the five minute overtime solved nothing, they went to a shootout.

He was fucking pissed. They should have won it in regulation, but the Lions had come to play, and they'd been sloppy in their end.

Tonight, however, the hockey gods must have been smiling on them because Robb ripped one home thirty-two seconds into the extra frame, and it was over. The home crowd got what they'd paid for, and the Wolves had come out of the weekend with the full four points. It was enough for now. Sandor met Ned's gaze, and they both knew there was work to be done, but it could wait until Monday when they'd be back at it.

They were given a full day off on Sunday, and Sandor knew that a bunch of the guys were heading over to Dacey's place.

"Alright, you twats," Bronn said in the dressing room. "BBQ at Sandor's place tomorrow. Bring beer or whatever the fuck you want to drink and see you assholes there."

A cheer went up, and Sandor shook his head, sometimes still wondering how this all came to be. He had a home here; family and friends. It was wild. 

"Hey man, I was wondering if I could come by a bit early," Rickon asked, suddenly beside Sandor.

Sandor noted the eager look on the rookie's face. He knew they were all headed to the bar tonight and was still a few months from being legal. It had to be hard, and Sandor liked to make Ric feel included.

"Sure, man. My house will be chaos, but maybe we can sneak in some Xbox time."

The grin on Rickon's face made Sandor feel like every one of his ten million dollars.

He showered and dressed in one of his suits, knowing they'd catch hell for it at the bar but unwilling to break the dress code. When he exited the dressing room, Sansa was waiting for him, and she all but sprinted into his arms, wrapping herself around him.

"Hi baby," she whispered. "Good game," she said, squeezing his ass.

He groaned. Fuck, he was too old for this bar shit. All he wanted to do was take her home, make love to her in some very creative ways and then fall asleep with her in his arms. He looked over her shoulder and saw Wyn, Brienne and Jeyne waiting and sighed.

"Hi, little bird," he said back, capturing her mouth in a kiss.

"One drink, and then we can bail," she whispered to him, and his eyes lit up.

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "Oh yeah. I mean, drunk Sansa has no filter, but no one needs that."

He groaned, thinking about how adorable she was when she was tipsy. But still, warm naked Sansa in his bed beat tipsy Sansa any day of the week.

"Let's see how this goes," he said, taking her by the hand and joining Tormund, Brienne, Robb, Gendry, Arya, Wyn, Jeyne Bronn and Jon as they walked across the street to the _Sin Bin_.

It was Saturday night, and the Wolves had played, so the place was hopping. Sandor watched as Robb entered the bar, and then went to Dacey, pulling her into a heated kiss, before dropping his coat, rolling up his shirt sleeves and diving into helping her behind the long bar. The look she shot him was one of pure love, and Sansa sighed beside him.

"I'm so happy for them."

Sandor grunted out his agreement. He glanced over and saw that Tormund was holding Brienne's hand, and the woman was scowling at some of the bunnies that frequented the place.

Tormund's loud voice could be heard, telling everyone he was proudly "Taken."

Sandor shook his head.

"Crazy fucker," he muttered, making his way to a booth where Sansa slid in with her friends. He glanced at Tormund and Jon.

"First rounds on us, ladies," Jon said, winking at Wyn, who shook her head, still immune to his charms.

Sansa asked for something fruity and girly, and Sandor shook his head, getting himself a beer. As he was making his way back to the booth, he saw some of his teammates had succumbed to the bunnies. SmallJon and Grenn appeared quite happy and were making dopy faces all over the chicks that only wanted to score with a hockey player.

So grateful that wasn't his life anymore, Sandor grunted and turned back to look at Sansa.

She was still wearing his jersey, talking excitedly with her friends and sister, and she was so fucking beautiful; she stole his breath. As if she felt his eyes on her, she turned and smiled at him, giving him a little wave and his entire body was swamped with emotion.

"Fuck, I'm going to marry that woman," he muttered, not realizing Jon and Robb were standing next to him.

Robb slapped him on the back. "Thank gods she picked you. I'd just about given up hope when she brought Harry the Horrible home. I'd much rather you be my brother, Hound."

Sandor shook his head. "What the fuck is up with you and Dacey?"

Robb's grin was huge. "I love her, man. Like, all the way in. I think I'm wearing her down, but I screwed up a couple of orders, so she kicked me out of the bar even though I dropped a couple of hundred bucks in her till to cover my screwup."

Sandor shook his head at Robb and the dopey expression on his face, even though he knew he wasn't much better.

He delivered Sansa her drink, squeezed his massive frame in beside her and loved how she all but sat on his lap. True to her word, when her one drink was done, she made their excuses, stating she had to get ready for the party tomorrow.

Of course, that resulted in a round of hugs and kissed and more words than Sandor thought necessary, considering these fucking people would be at his house tomorrow.

When they were finally out of the stuffy bar, he drew in a deep breath, not bothered at all with the cold in the North. It smelled clean up here and he liked it.

"You're a good teammate and an even better boyfriend," she told him as they walked hand in hand towards the SUV sitting in the parking lot of the rink.

He shot her a look. "How do you figure, little bird?"

She snickered and gave him a loving look. "No part of you wanted to be there tonight. But you went. For them and me." She stopped and tugged him close for a kiss. "That makes you a good man, Sandor Clegane."

The love there almost brought him to his knees, and that flare of want, of need, threatened to undo him.

He grabbed her butt and threw her over his shoulders, making her squeal as he strode across the parking lot.

"Need to get home," was all he could say as he got her to the SUV and inside, peeling out of the parking lot.

Sansa was quiet on the drive home, holding his hand, and she sighed happily when he pulled into his driveway.

"I love our house, Sandor. It's so perfect; everything I ever wanted," she blurted out, and he turned to look at her.

"You have no idea what you do to me, Sansa. What I feel for you."

She cupped his cheek and simply said, "Show me."

Together they walked inside, filled with so much love for one another that Sandor for once was willing to let her take the lead in their lovemaking.

As if to bookend the day, she spent what felt like hours tracing his tats and scars, kissing and licking at him, until blinded by his need for her, he finally flipped her and sunk inside her.

"You're my home, Sansa," he told her, and her eyes misted.

"You're my home as well, Sandor."

Then no words were needed, just touch and taste, fingers and tongues, lips and hands until she peeked around him, and he was filled with all things Sansa, and he willingly lost himself in her.

Finally sated, they went through their nightly routine until she was back in his arms.

"Love you, little bird."

With one last kiss, she whispered the words back to him, words that continued to heal his jagged heart.

"And I love you, Sandor."

This woman was everything, and Sandor was already making plans to buy her a ring the next time he was in Lannisport. They had all the best jewellers there, and he wanted something spectacular that would proclaim to the entire world, that Sansa Stark was his, for the rest of their lives. Some might think it was too soon, too quick.

But Sandor knew that she was it for him. She was who he'd been waiting for his entire life, and he couldn't wait to ask her to be his wife.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolves BBQ

_ Sandor _

Sandor leaned against the counter in his kitchen, watching Mama B instructing Rickon on how to make her triple chocolate brownies. The rookie had shown up bright and early, barely past 9 am, and his mother had welcomed Rickon into his home with open arms.

The kid was right in there, and Mama B was grinning happily to have another willing mouth to feed. The woman should have had half a dozen children, Sandor thought. She was made for this, and he loved how his family was blending with the Starks.

Sandor sipped at his coffee, thinking that with Mama B entertaining Rickon, it had given Sandor an extra half an hour to love on Sansa this morning.

He couldn't get enough of her, and this morning had been no different. He'd taken his time with her, first taking her up and over with his mouth, and then making her scream again when he'd pounded into her, her little pants and grunts driving him wild.

Afterwards, she'd pulled his weight down on top of her, nuzzling at his neck so that they remained intimately joined.

"Hmm, don't move. That was so good," she said, licking at him.

Sandor felt his cock stir deep inside her, and even he was impressed with himself that he might be able to go another round after he’d thought himself done. Then she was giggling when he tickled her, and he rolled off of her.

"Oh my god, your parents are going to think we're animals," she said, blushing hard and shaking her head, as he lay there, gazing at her, tats on full display. She was a vision, blond hair wild, cheeks flushed, his whisker burns on her neck, breasts and thighs. Her skin was so pale that all the little marks showed and the possessive part of Sandor loved it. 

Sandor could only grin at the picture she made, and he saw her legs, slick with their combined spendings.

His father had already commented that he'd better get a ring on his girl ASAP, and Sandor had full intentions of following through.

Lost in thoughts of what type of ring Sansa might want, he missed her happy chirping as she went on and on about the BBQ.

She was now splayed over his chest, tracing his tats and gazing up at him.

"It's just the first time I've ever hosted something like this, you know, with my boyfriend. At our house."

God, he loved the sound of that. Our house. Because this place was as much hers as it was his. Sansa made this place a home, and he loved it that she was living here with him.

Did he know, when Ned had shown him, that somehow this was where they'd both end up?

Deep down, Sandor could admit to always wanting to be part of something more. His nickname might be the Hound, but a very real part of Sandor loved being part of a pack, even if he was a cranky bastard sometimes. Sandor had always secretly wanted a large family, and now that possibility was there.

"The party will be perfect, baby," he told her. "It's my teammates and your family and friends. And they're hockey players, San. They don't need fancy. Just food, music and booze and lots of it."

Sandor looked out towards the terrace and saw the sky was blue, the sun blazing, and even though it was October in the North, the weather gods had granted them a perfect day for a late autumn cookout.

"Weather's good," he told her, and she nodded and then darted from the bed, calling over her shoulder that she had a million things to do.

Sandor looked down at his cock, which twitched, and he grinned. She'd have to wait just a little bit longer before she could dive into party preparations.

Sandor had plans for her, and they involved the woman that he loved screaming his name again. Fuck, he just couldn't get enough of her. He figured he could keep her occupied for at least another half an hour before she really needed to get started on her preparations.

Walking towards the shower, he stroked himself and felt the lust and love and just pure want for Sansa hum through his blood, and he knew today was going to be perfect.

* * *

The first to show up at their house were Dacey and Robb, making cow eyes at each other, and so in love, Sandor would have gagged had he not been in the exact same position with Sansa. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Dace had finally allowed Robb all the way in, and the man had a swagger that only came from getting laid by the woman you loved.

Sandor knew. He practically strutted around his house, the rink, the North these days. He was a happy man, and that was saying a lot considering how foul a mood he'd been in most of his life.

Robb and Dacey brought extra tables and chairs, from Ned's storage shed at Winterfell, and started setting things up on the vast deck outback.

Then Robb grabbed Sandor, and they unloaded the BBQ Robb had brought from his place. Sandor knew Robb wasn't much of a cook, but Robb bragged all the time about his grilling skills.

Personally, Sandor wasn't so sure that Robb should be bragging, but that was just him. A man had to know how to do more than make a steak and burgers. Sandor loved cooking for Sansa, but it seemed that the Starks weren’t too great in the kitchen. Sandor figured it had to come from growing up rich.

"My Dad is bringing his grill over as well. They'll be here in a bit. He said Mom was having a rough morning."

"Fuck," Sandor muttered, hating that Cat was going through this.

Each time he saw one of the Starks, he asked about Cat and wondered if there was more he might do. He'd been a kid, weak, poor and helpless when his mother had gone through this, but now, Sandor had resources. Not that Ned didn't, but still, Sandor knew the hell Cat was facing.

Mini and Hoster had left earlier in the day, and Sandor's heart ached for Cat that her parents were gone, but he was glad that she no longer had company in the house. Mini took up a lot of time and attention, and Cat always wanted to be the perfect hostess. With them gone, now she could rest and focus on herself.

"Anything I can do?" Sandor asked, his voice concerned.

Robb shook his head. "Nah. Mom's super excited to come over. She loves Sweetie, and she thinks the world of you. Plus, she knows how much this means to San."

Sandor grunted and worked with Robb to get the other grill in place on his big deck.

"And you and Dacey?"

Robb's grin was huge. "Fucking awesome, man."

He ran a hand through his auburn curls, shaking his head.

"Man, I never knew it could be like this, you know. With one woman, how fucking good it feels. I just… man, when I'm not with her, I'm thinking of her, and when I am with her, I'm just happy. It's awesome."

Sandor knew exactly what Robb meant, and so he just nodded wisely. He was happy to see Robb settle down, and he knew that Dacey was as loyal as they came. She reminded Sandor a bit of himself, and he could only pray that Robb didn't mess it up. But he seemed totally in love, and Sandor knew when men like him and Robb fell in love, they were all the way in.

Sandor was sure that Robb would be right behind him in putting a ring on Dacey's finger. Hell, they'd known each other for over a decade and had history. And Sandor thought, when you know you know. Sure, he and Sansa had moved fast, but Sandor knew he'd never love another woman the way that he loved her. It was like that for some guys, and Sandor figured Robb was the same as him.

Soon, Arya and Gendry were there, carrying two huge white coolers filled with soda, beer, ciders and ice. Of course, each new person that arrived had Sweetie wagging her tail like mad, bringing them toys and getting snuggles. Sandor loved how his dog, _their_ dog, he corrected himself, was so loved on by these Starks.

Arya especially loved Sweetie, and she spent some time throwing the ball for her, grinning at the dog after they'd placed the coolers of drinks on the deck.

"Gendry, we need to get one," she told him.

Sandor's defence partner just nodded.

"Sure, babe."

Arya squealed happily and kissed Gendry before turning to go inside, saying, "Mama B is teaching Sansa how to ice brownies. I gotta see this."

Gendry grabbed a beer and cracked it, handing one to Robb and Sandor.

"Fuck, did I just agree to a dog?" he said, somewhat stunned.

Sandor and Robb laughed at him, clapping him on the back.

"Sure, did, brother."

"Well," Gendry said, cocking his head, taking another long pull from his beer and thinking, "At least it's not a baby."

Both Robb and Sandor grunted their agreement but shared a meaningful look. Both men knew they wanted kids, and they knew the women they wanted to have children with. Gendry was a few years younger than Robb and a hell of a lot younger than Sandor. Sandor didn't want to be too old when he had a family, so he knew time was ticking. Plus, the mere idea of Sansa large with his baby? Fuck, that shit made him so hard he practically groaned and had to adjust himself.

"Babies aren't that bad," Sandor mumbled, and both Robb and Gendry were grinning at him like fools.

"Oh, for fuck sakes, wipe those grins on your faces," he snarled and threw the ball for his dog, as the laugher of Arya, Sansa, Rickon and Mama B drifted to the back deck. "You're next, Robb. You think Dacey doesn't want a houseful of kids?"

Of course, Robb had a shit-eating grin on his face. "Oh, she does, and I can't fucking wait to knock that woman up now that she's done being stubborn and denying that we're perfect together."

Sandor grunted and knew that he and Robb were on the same page when it came to their women. The mere thought of Sansa ripe and round with his child had his cock hard as stone. Sandor wanted to find her and drag her away to his liar, pound into her until he knew his seed had taken root, but instead, he stood there, drinking beer and bullshitting with his teammates.

Bronn and Jeyne were the next to show up, more drinks and platters of food in their hands.

"Wyn is on bun duty. And Jon is picking her up," Jeyne said with a wink. “And not those buns, Robb, you dirty pig.” Robb oinked and Jeyne threw a dog toy at his head.

Sandor shook his head at their antics.

Bronn had Jeyne's rescue dog, a little Australian Shepard with three legs with them. His name was Tripod, and Sweetie was in doggie heaven as they ran around the backyard together. Thank god they were both without their reproductive parts, cause Sandor swore Sweetie was in love. The last thing Sandor needed was puppies.

Sandor wandered back into the house, seeing that Mama B was directing her small army of helpers, Ric, Sansa, Arya and Dacey to cut fixings for the burgers and to make fruit and veggie platters. There was a huge bowl of potato salad, one with a pasta salad and what Sandor knew was a Mama B special, a gorgeous looking spinach salad with homemade dressing. The brownies were sitting in a pan, ready to be cut and iced and his stomach growled. It was good to have her here, in his home.

The menu today was burgers and hot dogs, and Sandor knew there would be enough food to feed a small army - or the Wolves hockey team. The feast that Mama B laid out during holidays was a sight to see, and she seemed to feel it her personal duty to make sure no one ever went hungry.

Sandor pressed a kiss to Sansa's cheek as she was slicing tomatoes, and she grinned at him.

"Look, I'm helping," she said and looked so darn proud of herself, he felt his heart well up with love. She was fucking adorable, and he wanted to drag her away and upstairs to their room and just sink inside her, but he knew that was hours away from that happening. She’d kill him; after she came. But still, he wouldn’t rile her up today. Sandor knew how important this day was to her.

“Good job, little bird,” he told her and kissed her again, before he heard the door open.

Ned and Cat were next to arrive, and the guys helped unload the third BBQ.

Ned immediately went over to Sansa and hugged her, confirming they had a Daddy-Daughter date this week. Sansa beamed at him, and Sandor was grateful that Ned was making time for her. She deserved it, and Sandor knew it meant the world to her. Ned had some serious making up to do with his eldest daughter.

Sandor took Cat by the arm, noting the small, dark circles beneath her eyes. His guts clenched at how frail she felt, and he hated that she was going through this. He had flashbacks to his own mother and her battle with cancer.

"Come on, let's get you settled in the queen's spot," he told her. He led her to couch in the Great Room, where he settled her with a blanket and a tablet. "You holler if you need a single thing. I ...uh… I picked up some mint tea. My mom used to say it helped with nausea. I know you aren't here often, but when you come by, I wanted to have it on hand."

Cat's eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, you sweet man. That would be lovely."

Mumbling he'd be right back, he slipped into the kitchen to boil water, as Wyn and Jon, loaded down with buns, came through his door, followed by Tormund and Brienne and then more and more of the team until his house was full.

Bronn and Tormund somehow set up a makeshift bar, and everyone that came through the house brought something to add to the feast.

Hard rock pumped from the speakers and Sandor knew it was a hockey player thing – most likely Rickon. The kid might only be eighteen, but he had killer taste in music as the Stones filled the air.

Someone had even made a huge sheet cake with the Wolves logo on it, and the pride Sandor felt in belonging to this team surged.

Sandor made Cat her tea, and brought it to her, pleased to see Jeyne there, keeping her company. Sansa's friends were amazing to her mother, and Cat was never alone.

Mama B, like the general she was, directed everyone, until the large island in the kitchen was all but groaning under the food.

People mixed and laughed, ate and drank, and Sandor often lost track of Sansa in the crush of who was in his home.

He kept a close eye on Cat, prepared to offer her a spare room if she needed time. He was scowling at her since he saw her try to hide another yawn when he felt Sansa's arms wrap around him.

"Hey baby," she said, patting his hard stomach. "Dad says he's going to fire up the grill. Him, Robb and Addam are competing for the top grill master, followed closely by Bronn and Tormund."

Sandor grunted at that and pulled her around to the front. He had to admit, and he loved seeing her here, like this, in their home, acting like the best fucking hostess. She knew everyone, and was funny and warm, and people naturally gravitated to her. Sandor knew he wanted this to be their life.

"That's good," he said.

Sandor was just as capable of grilling burgers on the BBQ as any man there, but he'd let the Starks go at it. It was oddly charming to have Sansa's family invade their house as if they belonged here, and as he stood there, Sansa's arms wrapped around his middle, while his hand rested possessively on her back, he knew he'd found his forever place. Sandor could see holidays here, hopefully with their kids running thought house, a Christmas tree on season, and Easter egg hunts for another.

"I love the North," he murmured, unaware he'd even spoken out loud until he heard Sansa's little giggle.

"That's good. I've been thinking about my businesses, and we need to talk," she told him.

He looked at her and noted she didn't appear to be worried or concerned, so for now, he'd let it go. His parents were flying out first thing tomorrow, and today he wanted to enjoy being with his teammates and his woman. They’d have time enough to get things settled and her organized.

As the afternoon wore on, the music got louder, the food got grilled, someone set up a volleyball net, and an impromptu game started.

Sansa got a bit tipsier, and Sandor came upon Ned and Addam deep in conversation.

"I just want you to think about it," Ned was telling Addam.

"Think about what?" Sandor said, sinking into a chair beside the two men.

Ned looked at Sandor.

"I was just saying when Addam retires here in a few months, and I'd like him to think of scouting for the Wolves."

Sandor's eyebrow arched.

"Yeah?" Sandor’s heart raced at the thought of Addam being part of the Wolves. It would be a dream come true.

Ned nodded. "He knows hockey talent, and he could work as little or as much as he wanted."

Sandor turned to the man that had been more his father than he ever had.

"And would that be in Lannisport?"

A loud laugh followed by some shrieks had them turning to see Arya being pushed into the pool by Rickon, while Mama B chuckled, and Sansa grinned. They were almost inseparable today and had both hovered over Cat, joining her inside and then helping her to a guest room when she wanted to rest.

"Your mother wants to be close, Sandor. I know that you and Sansa just started dating..."

"She's the one," Sandor interrupted, looking directly at Ned. "I Ummm, I don't have a ring. Not yet. And I don't think she'd say yes if I asked right now. But I'm telling you, right now, as her father, she's the one for me. I'm going to marry your daughter, Coach. Umm, if that’s ok with you.” Sandor felt his face heat. _Fuck, could he have messed that up anymore? he thought._

Ned swallowed hard and held out his hand, and Sandor shook it. Never in a million years had Sandor ever thought he'd have a father's approval to marry his daughter. And especially not someone like Sansa.

"Welcome to the family, son," Ned said, and Sandor's eyes got suspiciously damp.

Addam coughed. "She's an amazing woman, Sandor and Mama B and I love her like she’s our daughter already. And we're hoping that if you two do get married, there might be grandchildren one day. She doesn't want to be far from them," Addam said, and Sandor grunted.

Fuck, he wanted children. The wife. The family. He wanted the entire package, and he wanted that with Sansa.

"I'm not leaving the north, Dad," Sandor told Addam. "This is my place, and I'd love for you guys to be closer. Maybe not in my house, but closer."

Addam threw his head back and laughed. "No, we can give you space. But we'd like to be in Wintertown if that's alright with you."

_Was Addam serious? Alright, with it?_ Sandor would have their house packed up and on the market in a heartbeat if they'd let him. He’d buy them whatever they wanted up here as well. There was no need for them to spend their money. Sandor had plenty.

"Yeah, we're alright with that."

Sandor turned and caught Sansa's eye, and she excused herself to come over to him, planting herself on his lap and cuddling in.

"You three look so serious," she said brightly. "What's up?"

"Sweetheart, I was just offering Addam a job as a scout when he retires," Ned explained.

"Ohmygod!" Sansa squealed and then launched herself into Addam's arms, who hugged her hard. "That would be so amazing. Then you guys would be here! Oh, I'd love that. Mama B has so much to teach me in the kitchen, and oh my god, she'd be amazing on my YouTube channel and then you could watch all of Sandor's games! This is incredible!"

"Little bird, he hasn't agreed yet."

Sansa turned and gave Addam her patented pout, the one Sandor couldn't say no to, and Addam grinned at her.

"Of course we're going to come North, Sansa. We love it up here, and this is Sandor's home. You're his home. You're family, Sansa."

That, of course, made his girl weepy, and Sandor gathered her in his arms.

"They think of me like family," she sniffled into his chest, and Sandor shook his head at her. His woman loved big and with her whole heart. "I love them so much, Sandor. They're so great. We can't ever break up because I would miss them too much."

_What in the fuck was she talking about, breaking up? _

Sandor wanted a ring on her finger, his last name as hers and a fucking baby in her tummy.

"No, breaking up, little bird," he grunted, and she beamed. He loved Sansa more than anything, but her moods baffled him some days. She could go from weepy to happy in three seconds flat.

Sansa and Sandor settled into a comfortable conversation with their Dads, and eventually, Sansa convinced Sandor to go and get her a coffee.

"And some cake!" she called. As he walked away, he heard her giggling and shook his head at how whipped she had him.

It seemed to take him forever to make his way inside. Every single member of his team had something to say. Some were drunk, and some were just having fun, but everyone agreed this had been a great idea.

Bronn had Jeyne wrapped up in his arms, as Bronn was giving Tormund a hard time about their last game, and Sandor was surprised to see Brienne holding onto the redheaded goalie.

Robb and Dacey were cuddled up on a love seat in front of the enormous fire that someone built, as dusk was falling, and temperatures dropped in the North. They were chatting with Catelyn, who'd emerged from the guest room after their nap.

Jon and Wyn were there, and though they weren't holding hands or anything, Sandor swore they were sitting closer than 'just friends' would.

Mama B had Rickon, Arya and Gendry laughing at some story, while their other teammates were in various groups in and outside his house.

There were a few guys sprawled out on the couch, playing Xbox, while others were downstairs playing pool.

Not that he'd ever admit it out loud, but Sandor liked the vibe this entire day had. The Wolves were unlike any team he'd ever been part of, and he could see them all in a couple of years, with some kids running around, adding to the chaos.

He was walking towards the linen closet to find some blankets for the ladies, thinking Cat could definitely use one when he stopped.

There was a harsh, angry voice whispering into a phone, and it was out of place. Everyone today had been happy and chill, looking forward to the upcoming seasons and knowing they had a real shot at the cup.

Padding silently for a man his size, Sandor crept around the corner to see Theon standing in his entranceway, his face sweaty and his hands in his hair.

"I just need more time," he was saying, and then his lips thinned, and he looked almost panicked.

Sandor was just about to say something when Theon looked up and spotted him. He hurriedly ended his phone call.

"Hey, Cap, what's going on?"

Sandor glowered at him. He'd never felt close with Theon.

When he'd first arrived in the North Sandor could admit, he’d had a massive chip on his shoulder. Rickon and Tormund had refused to let him be a lonely bastard, and when Ned had made him captain of the team, Sandor had made a point of getting to know his teammates. It was his job and his role as leader of the team and he’d bonded with most of the guys.

But oddly enough, things had never been comfortable between him and Theon.

"What's going on?" Sandor asked, voice low. He didn't want to drag anyone else into this and thought that maybe, just maybe Theon might confide in him.

There was a flash, a moment when Sandor saw that he was scared and perhaps even a bit vulnerable, and then it was gone, replaced by the cocky swagger that Theon was known for.

"Nothing, man. Just some shit I'm working out."

Sandor's arms crossed, and he knew the picture he presented. He was huge and tatted, and this was his fucking house. And he didn't believe Theon for a second.

"You know secrets never stay buried, right?" Sandor said, making his voice raspy and low.

He wanted to intimidate Theon slightly because something was off with Theon. 

Had something changed now that they were not only dating but living together? Did Theon have feelings for Sansa?

They hadn't exactly been subtle about how fast their relationship had moved, and Sansa was a beautiful and wealthy woman.

"No secrets," Theon said, giving Sandor a cocky grin. "Just my old man, giving me shit."

Sandor knew that Balon Greyjoy was involved with the team in the Iron Islands.

"You know you're a Wolf, right? It's all about this team, Theon. The pack."

Theon stiffened and then his lips curled into a sneer.

"You might be captain, but you've played two fucking games. I've bled for this team since I was fucking drafted. I don't know how Coach doesn't see you for the grinder dog you are, but not all of us have drunk the Sansan juice, Hound."

Sandor stiffened and had to fight not to ram his fist into Theon's face. He walked up to him, deceptively slow until they were mere inches apart.

"Was that a threat?"

Sandor could practically feel the fear rolling off Theon as if he knew he'd taken it too far.

The man shook his head. "No. No threat."

Sandor held his gaze, thinking there was something there, something he was missing. He was just about to say something when Robb appeared.

"Hey, you two. We need blankets and more drinks. Quit being anti-social assholes and get back outside. And Clegane, my sister is complaining about cake."

"Be there in a minute," Sandor called, not taking his eyes from Theon.

When Robb was gone, Sandor spoke.

"Just know that I'll do anything for Sansa. You don't have to like me, and quite frankly, I don't give a shit if you do. But no one hurts her," Sandor snarled into Theon's face.

He bobbed his head and then darted around Sandor.

It took a solid five minutes for Sandor to get himself under control, and when he did, he pulled out his phone and called Stannis. The man answered immediately, and Sandor filled him in about his conversation with Theon and the funny feeling he got.

"I'll look into it. For now, change your security code, Sandor. I don't like where he was standing."

Sandor had almost hoped that Stannis would tell him he was overreacting and not to worry. Theon was his teammate. More importantly, Theon was friends with the Starks.

"Sandor," came Stannis's clipped voice. "You did the right thing. If he's not hiding anything, they'll be nothing to find. But always, always trust your instincts."

"Thanks," Sandor said and closed his eyes after he ended the call.

His instincts were what had made him run away after that last brutal beating from his brother. His instincts were what told him he could trust Addam. And his instincts were what told him that Theon was trouble.

Eventually, Sandor roused himself, made Sansa her coffee in her favourite Yeti mug so it wouldn't get cold, adding a healthy dose of Bailey's liquor. He found her some cake and made his way back outside, discovering that night had fallen, and everyone was gathered around a roaring fire. Sansa had snagged a love seat for them, and he fit himself beside her, loving how she cuddled up against him, moaning as she ate her cake and thanking him for the coffee.

Sandor brushed his lips against her hair, inhaling her scent. This woman was his life, his reason for fucking living. He'd do anything to keep her safe. He looked around, trying to find Theon, but realized he must have left.

Sandor knew he'd have to say something. If not to Sansa quite yet, then perhaps Ned. He'd known Theon since he was a teenager, and maybe he had some insights as to what that phone call had been about. But for now, with Sansa safe in his arms, and Stannis on the hunt, Sandor forced himself to relax.

When she titled her head up for a kiss, her eyes shining, Sandor was swamped with love for her.

"Thanks for the perfect day, big guy," she said.

He leaned down and kissed her, hearing the cheers and catcalls of the friends and family and not caring in the least.

"Love you, little bird."

Her smile, happy and content was everything. For now, Sansa was safe and secure, and he'd do everything in his power to ensure she remained that way even if that meant tearing apart his team to find out who was trying to hurt her.

For the first time in his life, Sandor had something, someone in his life that was more important than hockey. And he'd kill anyone who tried to harm her.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa works on her business and another encounter with Ramsay

* * *

_ The North – Sansa_

When Sansa woke the morning after the BBQ, that was by her estimation a roaring success, she was met with a Sandor that had a look on his face that she'd never seen before. It was at once both intense and somewhat troubled.

"What's going on?" she asked softly, loving how he arranged himself against her as if protecting her from something.

"We need to talk," he said, voice low and deep and dread formed in her tummy. Sansa wondered immediately if this was when Sandor called things off; they had moved fast, and maybe she'd been too over the top. Perhaps he didn't want her here, in his house, or perhaps he just felt something different than she did. Sansa knew it happened to couples all the time, and just because she was a romantic person that believed in love at first sight, didn't mean everyone did.

"Fuck, little bird, it's not like that," Sandor said, jarring her back to him.

His big hand came and cupped her cheek, soft and loving. "Baby, I love you. You're my entire world, Sansa."

"Then what has you looking so worried?" she asked.

Sandor sighed and then told her about Theon and what he'd overheard.

She went to ask why he hadn't said anything last night, feeling slightly hurt and a bit angry, wondering if he was doing the same thing her father had regarding Joffrey.

"First, I phoned Stannis. He's the only person that knows, other than you. You are the second person I told. Last night, you were a bit drunk, and I didn't want to ruin the day. Theon was gone, and I knew I'd tell you first thing when you woke up today, Sansa. I won't ever keep things like this from you."

She relaxed, seeing the logic in his choice.

"What did Stannis say?"

"He's worried. He told me to trust my gut."

"What does your gut say?"

Sandor gave her a look.

"I can handle it, Sandor."

"I know you told me you had a crush on Theon when you were younger," Sandor said.

"I did. But that was a long time ago, and he never felt that way about me, Sandor. I'm sure."

"Perhaps."

Sansa could see that he didn't quite believe her, and she wondered if he'd heard something in the dressing room, or if that was just Sandor's perception of him. He wasn't shy about how amazing he thought she was.

"For now, Stannis is looking into things. I still don't trust that Ramsay is done with us."

Sansa brushed her lips across Sandor's. "Thanks for trusting me and telling me."

"We have a new code for the security system," he said. Then he trailed kisses down her neck, his beard leaving a redden path on her skin. Right before he could do more, Sandor's phone chimed. Sandor grunted as he looked at it.

"Fuck, babe. I've got to take my parents to the airport for their flight. No time to love you this morning."

Sansa giggled at his put out expression and hopped from the bed, dragging on some yoga pants, a tank top and a light cardigan. With Mama B and Addam leaving, and the hockey season now underway, Sansa finally had time to devote herself to her business. She had a conference call with Yohn Royce scheduled for 9 am and knew that if she wanted to move her business North, she had some serious work to put in to make it happen.

"Are you heading right to the rink or back home after the airport?" she asked.

Sandor glanced at his watch. "Rink. Unless you need me?"

Sansa shook her head. "Nope." She stood on her tippy toes to kiss him. "But tonight, when you're home, we need to chat about my plan for my company."

"Taking over the North?" Sandor joked.

Apparently, she had no poker face because he laughed, deep and rumbly and hauled her back against him for another deep kiss.

"I love it, babe. Just tell me what I can do to help," he told her, and she melted. Her guy was so supportive!

They entered the kitchen hand in hand, and Sansa did a little dance to see that Mama B had made homemade waffles, eggs and bacon. Sandor groaned in appreciation and dug in, chatting with his parents. Sansa knew so much had changed between the three of them, and to any outsider, they looked like a real family.

When breakfast was done, Sandor glanced at his watch, and Sansa herself was as weepy as Mama B. Having them here had been amazing, and Sansa knew that she'd won the proverbial lottery with them.

"I'm so glad you two found each other," Mama B whispered into Sansa's ear as they hugged hard.

"Me too."

Addam was gentler but no less sincere. "I've waited a long time for my boy to be happy, Sansa."

She just about melted then and there. Addam was such a caring man, and she was sure he'd saved Sandor's life when he'd found him as a runaway and brought him into his home.

After their goodbyes, which included Sweetie, Sandor hustled his parents out to this SUV, and then came back to kiss her. Hard.

"New code, babe. Brienne just pulled up. Stay safe, please and I'll be back sometime this afternoon."

Sansa grabbed his butt and squeezed. "Bet your great ass, big guy. I have loads to do." Ass was the one swear word that Sansa allowed herself free reign to use. Especially when it came to Sandor’s.

"Thaw some chicken, little bird. I'll cook tonight, and then I have you all to myself."

The growl in his voice made her panties wet, and she was still grinning as Brienne entered. It was clear that Stannis had briefed her on the Theon update. Sansa had a pang in her heart, thinking that her friend, a man that had been part of her family for so long, might somehow be out to hurt her, but she trusted Sandor.

"Practice hard," Sansa said, winking and emphasizing the word hard, watching as Sandor adjusted his pants and then turned and stalked towards the SUV. Still grinning, Sansa got herself a fresh coffee and then went to the bedroom that they'd started to turn into her office.

She was behind on posting a new video, and she had crates of unorganized makeup. The set up wasn't great where she was, although as a home office, the bedroom was adequate for now.

Sansa knew that even with her plan to move her makeup business North and create both office and warehouse space for MiSa, her makeup brand, she'd need to create dedicated space in their home, both for her YouTube videos and her IG account.

For now, she could work with what she had, but Sansa had big plans for her company and her brand, and she knew she needed dedicated, proper space to really become the businesswoman she dreamed of being.

She opened her MacBook and logged in, smiling with it, rang with a call from Yohn. He'd been a godsend to her, being with her every step of the way when she'd branched out into her own makeup line.

"Sansa! You're looking well," Yohn said, his kindly face filling her scream.

"I'm fantastic!" she told him, the huge grin filling her face.

He chuckled and shook his head. "I had a feeling when you went home, that was where your heart was. Fill me in and don't spare any details."

The took the next fifteen minutes to catch up. Royce was on both her IG and YouTube accounts, and they'd emailed back and forth, but this was the first time since she'd come home and moved in with Sandor that Sansa really had a chance to speak to Yohn about Sandor.

"He's good to you?"

"Very, very good, Yohn."

"So, I assume this latest development," he said, and Sansa laughed at him, calling Sandor a 'development,' "means you've been thinking about the future."

"I have. And I'm sure by now you've guessed, but I want to move it all North, Yohn."

His brushy silver eyebrows shot up. "All?"

Sansa nodded. "Yup. I know. This is huge. We have all the production contracts in place, but they are coming up at the end of the year for renewal, and I know there is a clause where we can opt-out. I know it means finding warehouse space, and an office, new labs that can develop and test the makeup and a headquarters with office space. This is big time, a huge commitment to MiSa and our brand and the North. But this is where my heart is. My family is here, and now with Sandor playing for the Wolves this is my home."

"What if he's traded? Will you go with him? Or stay?"

Sansa knew it was a place of love and belief in her that Yohn asked the tough questions.

"He says if he's traded he won't go. He'll retire. He's thirty-one, and while lots of guys play for a few more years, his career is winding down. Plus, he has a no-trade clause. He loves it here."

Yohn nodded. "Good." Then he cracked his knuckles. "Let's talk details, Sansa. This is not something we can do overnight. We require key positions to be filled, with the right people that support your vision and want to live in Wintertown."

"First, we need an office manager," Sansa said, knowing that she'd never be able to manage all the employees she was planning on hiring. For how successful MiSa was, it had basically been a two-person show. Sansan had exploded across social media, and the demand for her products had never been higher. And what she had planned? She needed a team. An awesome team of people to work their magic to make her company a success. 

"That and most likely an HR manager, a Chief Financial Officer as well as a warehouse supervisor and someone to oversee both product development and packaging and marketing. And you need to think about what your title will be as well, my dear. Are you becoming a CEO or the president of MiSa?"

Sansa whimpered as she took notes, having no immediate answer to his question. She knew what she wanted, and she knew how to get there. But the work in front of her was daunting.

Royce's soft laugher came through. "Deeps breaths, Sansa. We have some time."

"Yes, I know. But you know how I am when I get an idea in my head. It's go, go, go."

Royce laughed again. "I know, dear. And it is why things have taken off so dramatically. So now, we need to ensure we have the right people in place to make this happen."

That initiated a conversation about people and what positions she'd require to take her company from the small, two-person show it was, to one of the big players on the market.

By the time they were done, she had a list. Everything from promoting Yohn to her Chief Executive Officer as she moved into the role of President and Creative Director, to hiring a Chief Operation Officer, a Chief Financial Officer, a Senior Manager of Product Development and a Senior Manager of Packaging and Design. Then there was an HR Manager, a Manager of Communications, an Office Manager and a Warehouse Manager. She'd need an executive assistant as well.

Their conversation turned to logistics – what Sansa envisioned when she said she wanted her company in the North.

"Ideally, I'd like to own both the warehouse and my own office building."

"Do you have the capital for that?"

Sansa drummed her fingers on the desk, thinking. She made good money; very good money. But did she have the capital to invest, all on her own?

"Not quite."

"Perhaps a suggestion," Yohn said.

"I'm all ears," Sansa replied eagerly.

"Speak to your grandfather. Hoster Tully is known as one of the wealthiest men in Westeros, Sansa and an accomplished businessman. I am sure he'd be willing to give you advice on this matter."

"That's actually… perfect! Thanks."

"Now, just because we want to come North, my dear doesn't excuse us from our obligations from you next lines," Royce said, turning the conversation back to the brass tacks of what they had to accomplish now. It was early October, which meant spring line, and more importantly, Christmas. The makeup lines for Christmas were done, but they were currently working on the marketing of them. For now, they were using an external company, but Sansa hated that she didn't have full creative control. This was one of the driving factors to bring everything involved in MiSa 'in house.'

By the time Sansa looked at her watch, her stomach growling, she had realized it was almost lunchtime.

"This sounds great. I'm flying into King's Landing on Wednesday and I have a hair appointment. Do you have time to meet on Thursday or Friday?"

When Sansa had chosen to go south, she'd also called into her favourite salon to get her hair dyed back red. It was time, and she was excited to see her actual colour again. Of course, her usual hairstylist, Marg, was away, but her brother Loras, who was a brilliant hair colorist, was available. Or made himself available for her. Sansa knew that they would post it all over social media and right now, the Tyrells would not pass up a chance to do her hair. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement that suited her perfectly.

"Let's do breakfast and wrap up some of these details then."

Sansa nodded and then bit her lip. "I guess I forgot the most important question."

Royce arched a bushy white eyebrow.

"WillyoucomeNorthwithme?"

"What was that?"

"Will you come North with me?" Sansa asked again, suddenly worried. Maybe Yohn loved King's Landing? Perhaps he didn't want to upend his life and move up here?

Just as she was prepared for the worst possible news, he smiled. "Of course. I've already been looking at suitable housing. I knew the moment you left that this is where you'd end up."

"Oh, thank god."

Royce smiled. "Go and eat. I can hear your stomach from here. We'll catch up when you are in the capital, and I'll email you my thoughts."

Sansa was humming softly to herself as Sweetie followed her into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and saw neatly labelled containers of leftovers and dove into the potato salad, silently thanking Mama B. Sansa seriously needed to learn how to cook, but god only knew when she'd find the time. This business moving deal was going to be a tremendous amount of work, even more than she had initially thought.

After she ate, she took out her phone and posed with the dog, sending the pic to her IG account.

#houndsgirls #wearethenorth #dogpack #adoptadog

Sweetie looked adorable, and Sansa scratched her ears.

"Let's go for a run, huh girl." That got a reaction from the dog, who practically danced in glee.

Then she changed and got her work out gear on, finding Brienne in the great room.

"Wanna go for a run?"

Brienne's face lit in a smile, and she nodded, going to change quickly. Soon they were outside in the crisp fall air, Sweetie jogging beside them, a massive grin on her face. When they got home, Sansa stripped down and showered and then braided her wet hair, putting on new pants and a comfy sweater. She took a seat on the terrace and looked towards Winterfell.

Finding the number to Baratheon Security, she placed the call. She wasn't an idiot, and she wouldn't take chances. She wanted Stannis to know she was coming south and to plan for it.

Shireen answered, and her excited voice made Sansa smile.

"Great opening weekend for the Wolves. I loved your pictures," she said eagerly, and Sansa smiled and petted Sweetie on the head.

"Thanks."

"It was my study break, watching the games."

"What are you taking?" Sansa asked, truly curious. She'd yet to meet Shireen, but she sounded kind and intelligent.

"Dual degree in communications and web design, with a focus on social media marketing."

Sansa was impressed. It was a sign of the times that the combination of those fields would most like lead to Shireen being in high demand when she graduated, and a thought began to form in the back of Sansa's mind. Before she could voice it though, Shireen sighed.

"I bet you want to talk with my Dad. I'll transfer you through."

"Thanks," Sansa replied and spent the next fifteen minutes getting a 'reminder' from Stannis about home security and a promise that Renly would be there for her.

"Be vigilant, Ms. Stark. Sandor did the right thing in alerting me last evening."

"Have you found anything? About Theon, I mean."

Stannis paused. "Perhaps. But nothing concrete and nothing that I feel comfortable sharing at this point. I promise, if I do, you and Mr. Clegane will be the first to know."

Sansa let out a frustrated breath. "Ok. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Try not to worry, Sansa. I am good at my job."

"I know."

"Tell Sandor he played well this weekend. Shireen and I enjoyed watching him. He's a boon for the Wolves."

"I will. Thank you, Stannis."

Sansa ended the call and sat in the warm autumn sun for a few minutes, gathering her thoughts. It was so frustrating to think that Ramsay was still out there and was always a threat. She'd done nothing to him and yet, he was fixated on her. And now there was this uncertainty with Theon.

Blowing out a breath, Sansa got up and went back to her office. She had two more important phone calls to make.

The first was to Pod. When she got him on Facetime, she couldn't help but smile. Pod was one in a million and a true friend. She'd have been lost without him when she started all her social media stuff. She knew he'd been working long days since she and Sandor went viral; even if he denied it, which he did, Sansa could see it in his eyes.

"Don't worry about me," he said, giving her that soft smile.

"I'm not worried. I'm promoting you. To social media manager, Pod. It comes with a pay raise, better benefits and more vacation. You've earned it." When she named his new salary, his eyes almost bugged out of his head. The best part of her success was that she was able to share it with others.

"Sansa, that's too much."

She waved a hand. "It's not. I should have done it weeks ago. You're worth it. Now, tell me what else you need."

Pod said nothing, but she saw something in his eyes.

"Pod, tell me."

He gave her a crooked little smile. "I could use an assistant just to help with some of the comments. And a video editor. And an intern or someone to help on the tech end of things."

Sansa hummed and thought about it. "So legitimately two more people, with the possibility of a third."

"Yeah. But honestly, San, I'm doing ok."

She snorted. "You're working insane hours, Pod. While I love you for it, I won't have you burning out. I can't. You're the glue that holds this all together."

He blushed and accepted her compliment, and they spent half an hour discussing the new positions Sansa had in mind. When she hung up, she felt worlds better and made a note to speak to the firm that handled her payroll to get Pod's salary increased immediately.

Finally, Sansa put a call into her grandfather. He still worked as much as always, grumbling about his brother and his son and the family business.

When he finally stopped, Sansa cleared her throat.

"I have some questions, Grandpa. Business questions."

She could almost hear the interest across the phone line, and he grumbled a bit and then said. "I'm all ears."

Hoster Tully was a grumpy man, but one that Sansa loved. Her time living in the Riverlands with her grandparents meant that she was close to them, and she knew he was a brilliant businessman.

When she finished outlining her vision for MiSa, he grunted.

"I'm thinking," he said, and Sansa picked at her nails. She needed those done as well. The Wolves had another home game Tuesday night, and then she was leaving Wednesday morning, but perhaps her nail girl could squeeze her in. Sansa was thinking about what she might want to wear to the game, when her grandfather spoke, jarring her back to reality.

"So, the way I see it," Hoster said, "You can do this one of two ways. Either you are prepared to pay rent on the warehouse and the office buildings for the next few years, and you retain full control of your company, or you need a few investors, so you have the capital to own them outright."

It was similar to what Royce had said.

"Gut feeling, girl. What do you want?"

"I want to own them."

Hoster chuckled. "Good girl. Now there are a few in Westeros that have the money to back you. There is the Martell group in Dorne, Olenna Tyrell in the Reach, Petyr in the Vale, Robert in the Stormlands, Tywin in the West and me."

Sansa tapped her pen against her lips. "Definitely a no to Petyr or Robert."

"Good call."

"Hmmm, I've never even met any of the Martells, so I have no idea what they might be like."

"Flamboyant," was Hoster's reply. Sansa grinned.

"And from the few stories I've heard from Marg, her grandmother can be a nightmare."

"Agreed."

"Which leaves you and Tywin."

Another grunt.

"What you need now is a business case, Sansa. Run the numbers. How much do you need as a capital investment? How much of your company are you willing to 'give up'? What is the role of your investors? Full or silent partner? What is your profit margin once you move North? What does your company look like? Put a proposal together and then approach the Great Lion and see. He's a cold bastard, but he loves money, and he seemed taken with you."

"So, that means you're in?" Sansa asked.

Hoster laughed. "Do the work, Sansa. We're family, and I love you. But this is business. The way you present yourself is everything. Put that brilliant brain of yours to work."

"Thanks, Grandpa," Sansa said, hanging up, mind racing.

This was what she was good at. Numbers came easily to her, and she hadn't earned her dual master's degrees because she'd been sleeping with her professors. She'd earned them because she was smart. Sansa took a sip of water, opened up her laptop and lost herself in building her case to convince two of the most powerful men in Westeros to invest in the new direction she was taking her company.

She was so lost in her own world that she hadn't even realized how late it was until she heard Sandor curse and what sounded like a crash. Glancing at her watch, she realized that three hours had flown by, and she had the rough outline of what she wanted to say in her business case. Hearing Sandor swear, she laughed and hurried out of the room.

She found her boyfriend surrounded by boxes of free products, glaring at them. When he saw her, his eyebrow twitched.

"What the fuck is all this shit, little bird?"

Sansa laughed and started helping him bring the boxes inside. "PR."

His eyes bugged out. "All this shit is free makeup?"

She nodded. "Well, makeup, masks, brushes, different skincare stuff. I don't have my own line of that, but I get asked to test a lot of different products and give reviews. Normally I get several boxes a day."

"Seven fucking hells, where are we going to put it all?" Sandor glanced around his entrance. He had a big house, but this was insane.

Sansa frowned. "That was something I wanted to speak with you about."

"You're not moving out, are you? I can buy a bigger house," he said a bit of panic in his voice, and Sansa rushed over to him.

"No, baby. No, nothing like that. I just need to create a more dedicated space for my makeup. Like a room that can properly store all of this stuff, and where I can be set up to shoot my videos." Sansa opened her phone and took out her Pinterest boards and brought up a few shots of different home studios that people had built.

"Something like this."

Sandor took her rose gold phone in his big hand and swiped through the pictures.

"Yeah, we can do this. I mean, it's not that much work, and I'm sure if we get a contractor in here, it won't take long."

Sansa clapped her hands. "Also, I need a proper office. Home office. I'll explain my other plans later, but for now, I think this should be the priority. And," she said, holding up her hand, "I'm paying for it."

He grumbled, "Little bird."

She smashed her lips to his, loving how his hands cupped her butt and held her close to him. Her guy was so strong. "Sandor, it's my house, too, right?"

He said nothing but gave her a look.

"Let me. Please." Sansa pouted, sticking out her lip.

"Christ that face. You know I'm fucking helpless to say no."

Sansa laughed and kissed him.

"Come on, help me move these into the room and then we can make dinner. I have so much to share with you."

Over a delicious meal of homemade alfredo chicken fettuccine, white wine and a delicious Cesar salad, Sansa told Sandor her plans for MiSa. He was impressed, she could tell, especially when she showed him her business outline and ideas and spoke of capital investment, returns and the jobs she would create in the North.

Sandor shook his head in amazement and gave her a little smile.

"What?"

"Who knew being so smart was so sexy," he said. All thoughts of her business and work and moving her company North fled. Sansa rose and held out her hand.

"Leave the dishes," she said, happy when he complied. Then she was in Sandor's arms, and hers wrapped around his neck as he kissed her, flaming the desire that was always there.

Sansa was tugging at Sandor's clothing the moment he laid her on the couch.

"Been thinking about having you here since I moved in," he said, taking her top and bra off in one slick move. His lips were on her nipples, already hardened into little peaks as Sansa pulled down her shorts.

He groaned as she fisted his cock, using the little bead of moisture there to stroke him hard and fast.

"Fucking hells woman," Sandor growled, yanking off her yoga pants and tossing them across the room. She would have giggled, but his mouth was there, licking and sucking at her as if he were a man starved, and she widened her legs as he drove her up close to her peak. Just as she was about to crash over, he withdrew his mouth, hauled her up to her feet, spun her around and bent her over the couch.

"Hold on."

Sansa sucked in a deep breath as he slammed himself home, her flesh stretching to accommodate his girth as he sunk deep inside. He stilled, letting her adjust until she moaned and arched her back. Then his hands were on her hips as he thrust into her hard.

Sansa loved every single moment. It was slightly dirty, definitely wild (for her), and it felt just a bit out of control. Through it all, Sandor whispered both loving and dirty things in her ear. How he loved her ass and that her tits were perfect and what she tasted like. Sansa loved every word. 

"Can't get enough of you, little bird," he growled at one point.

Sansa lost track of time as she lived in a world of pure sensation that he was creating for her. The rough scrape of his beard on her back, his calloused hands firm yet still gentle on her hips, and his roughened lips were kissing her neck. She could only imagine what they looked like; her porcelain skin against his darker, tattoed body. 

All of it coalesced into what she knew was going to be the best orgasm of her life, and as she felt herself spinning ever higher, she begged him. Literally begged him.

"Sandor, make me come," she panted grateful when his big thumb brushed her clit, sending her into the stratosphere as he pounded her into the couch, before howling as he emptied himself deep inside her.

Spent, he draped himself over her as they both tried to regain their breath. Finally, he pulled out and then groaned at the sight of his spendings leaking down her thighs.

She turned and shook her head at him. "One day, babe, that's going be a baby-making load."

Sansa stood, still laughing. "Really? Baby making load?"

Sandor grinned as if to say he were a dirty dog. She loved him anyway, 

Sandor had serious baby fever, not that she could blame him. While she loved her businesses, Sansa had always wanted a large family. And she didn't want to wait forever to start one. Sandor grabbed his t-shirt and cleaned her up before they finally put the kitchen back in order. A quick play outside with Sweetie and then they cuddled on the couch, watching highlights from the other games tonight and talking hockey and their upcoming games.

Sandor, much to Sansa's chagrin, had found a spare t-shirt in the laundry room, and she pouted when he covered up.

Sandor laughed at her and pulled her closer, although his eyes were on the TV. She loved how seriously he took hockey. It was a massive turn on, to see someone that dedicated to their sport.

Later, when Sansa was lying in Sandor's arms, she was running her finger against an intricate tattoo on his pec muscle.

"Can I ask you something?" she said, and he grunted, turning to look down at her.

"Yeah, of course."

Sansa gathered her thoughts, knowing that this was a bit of a delicate topic. When she was ready, she propped herself up so she could look directly in his eyes.

"I need you to be honest with me."

Sandor nodded.

"Does me approaching Tywin as an investor bother you in any way? Because if it does," she said, rushing on, "I can approach someone else. There are other options."

Sandor's grey eyes went contemplative, and Sansa held her breath. She would not approach Tywin if he were uncomfortably or any way upset. Sandor was way more important than having Tywin Lannister as an investor.

"What are your other options?" he asked, and Sansa quickly ran through them.

Again, Sandor appeared deep in thought, and he finally grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.

"Little bird, I want you to be successful. And I love seeing how excited you are about this. Tywin and I have a complicated history. A lot of his shit I put up with, but a lot of it didn't even bother me. Yeah, he got in my head in Lannisport. Can't really blame him. Guy fucked up, and he seldom does that."

Sansa worried her lip. "Yeah, I know. But I mean, if he is an investor, it might mean he has more reason to be around. And I'd hate for this to ever be awkward for you."

Sandor chuckled. "Babe, he's always gonna be a dick to me. It's just the way this world works. But you can't always pick and choose who your teammates are. Tell me, is he the best choice?"

Sansa nodded. "He is. I can learn so much from him, and it would mean a lot to have his name attached to my businesses. He and my grandfather. It would give it a huge boost."

"Then do it, babe," Sandor said and kissed her to seal the deal.

"It's going to be a lot of work. Are you sure you're ok with this?"

"Sansa, my job is to help you achieve your dreams; not stand in the way of them."

"Oh gods, you're so perfect!" she cried and threw herself into his arms. "Thank you. This means the world to me. I'm so excited to bring good-paying jobs, North."

Sandor hummed and held her close.

"I'm glad you're following your dreams, Sansa."

"That's just one dream, Sandor."

"What's the other?" his voice asked, low and sort of rough.

"You, my love. You and this incredible life we're building together."

"Fuck little bird, Iove you so much."

"I love you too, Sandor. Now get some sleep, big guy. Game night tomorrow."

"Fucking right it is," Sandor said, and Sansa snuggled closer, twining her legs in his so even in sleep, they were together, always.

* * *

Even though it was game day, when Ned found out that Sansa was going away for the rest of the week, he'd called her up and asked if they could go for coffee.

"I know you like those fancy places, sweetheart," and Sansa's heart melted a bit.

She met them at the rink, sitting to watch the light practice her Dad was running the guys through this morning. Afterwards, Sandor kissed her and promised she would let Ned driver her home.

She settled into her father's truck, surprised when he turned to go to her favourite little café.

"Sandor told me," he said, giving her a bit of a sheepish grin.

"How's Mom?" Sansa spoke to Cat daily, so what she was really asking was, how was her father dealing with Cat's cancer diagnosis.

"A trooper. That woman is a warrior, Sansa. And I know having you home makes all the difference in the world to her. She loves Sandor, and she's so happy for the two of you."

Sansa laughed and shook her head.

"Who would have ever thought that Mom would like a guy like Sandor so much."

Her father gave her a soft smile. "Well, she did fall for me. I was nothing like what your grandparents wanted for her. Your mother sees that character that Sandor has. That's all that's important, sweetie."

They parked and went inside, her father looking utterly bewildered at the selection of drinks.

"What do you feel like? Something chocolatey? Something basic? Something sweet?"

"Uhmmmm, sweet."

In the end, Sansa ordered a London Fog latte for her father and a skinny vanilla one for herself. Then she added a lemon tart and a brownie, and they took their seats. Being midafternoon, after the lunch rush, there were only a few people in the shop, and they gave them privacy. Sansa was thrilled to have her father's undivided attention, and when he asked about her company, she bit her lip, wondering what she should say.

Ned reached for her hand and squeezed. "Sweetheart, tell me."

"Really? It's a lot, and I kind of get really excited about it."

"Sansa, I want to hear all about it."

Taking a deep breath, Sansa did. She told him everything; moving North, getting investors, working with Royce, her conversation with Hoster and her dreams to employee several people in the North with well-paying jobs."

Her father looked both impressed and stunned.

"And there is money to be made, in makeup?"

Sansa laughed. "Yeah, Dad. Loads. Some companies are worth over half a billion dollars."

Ned spat out his coffee. "With a b? Half a billion dollars?"

Sansa nodded. "The profit margin on make-up is crazy, Dad. So yeah, if I do this right, that's not unreasonable."

Ned sat back in his chair, staring at her. Then he threw his head back and laughed, rich and deep. "Oh gods, Sansa. I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. Anything I can do to help, you tell me."

She nodded. "I will. Hey, do you know a good real estate guy? They could start to look for some warehouse space for me. Oh! And your lawyer. I use one in King's Landing, but again, being North, I'd like to keep it local up here."

"I can do that, no problem Sansa." Ned frowned and then said, "And Sandor is alright with you approaching Tywin?"

Sansa loved how invested her Dad was in her boyfriend. He treated him like a son already, which bodes well for their future, Sansa thought.

"Yup. We talked about it last night. I think I'm more pissed at Tywin than he is. I think he almost… well, it's awful, but I think he sort of expects it from Tywin."

"And you? Can you work with him?"

Sansa took a bite of her lemon tart and thought about the question seriously. "I can. I mean, I know that he's a brilliant businessman. And I have no interest in the others. I don't really want friends and family investing, although I don't mind if Grandpa does. He can keep it all separate. So yeah, I think I can. Am I an awful person? Sandor said he was fine with it, but…"

"No, Sansa, you're not. This is business. And I tend to agree with you, although I'll never be a fan of Tywin Lannister. But somehow, the man seems… taken with you. If him investing in your company can help make your dreams come true, then I see no problems with it."

Sansa let out a relieved breath and then turned the conversation to Bran, who was studying computer science way up North.

"He'll be home in a few weeks for Thanksgiving, which is a relief to your mother. She likes having all her little chicks nearby."

Sansa nodded. She missed Bran, and it would be good to see them. They talked about Arya and Gendry, who was angling for a dog, and Dacey and Robb, who were talking about moving in together.

"I can't believe he's finally giving up his wild ways. I have you and Sandor to thank for that," Ned said. Eventually, their drinks were done, and Sansa knew her Dad had to get back home before heading to the rink. When he dropped her off, she hugged him hard.

"Thanks, Daddy," she whispered.

"Always, peanut. I love you, San. Never, ever doubt that."

She hurried inside, seeing that Sandor was waiting for her, and he enveloped her in his strong arms.

"Good visit with your Dad?"

She nodded, choked up with emotion. "The best."

"Come on, little bird, time to get ready to go to the rink."

Happier than she'd been in a long time, Sansa helped Sandor pick out a suit, tied his tie and then donned her jersey, meeting Brienne downstairs where they went to watch the Wolves kick ass once again.

* * *

_King's Landing – Sansa_

As Sansa sat in the hairdresser's chair at _Urban Rose_, the upscale hair salon owned and run by siblings Margaery and Loras Tyrell in King's Landing, she thought back to her morning.

Sandor had been adorably grumpy and worried as he'd helped her with her suitcases and driven her to their airport. He'd muttered that he didn't like that she was on the plane by herself and that he'd be talking to Stannis about that.

Sansa had tried not to giggle, knowing that Renly was meeting her at the King's Landing airport, but she'd been unsuccessful as Sandor shot her a dark look.

"You're the most important thing in my life, little bird. I won't take any fucking chances with you, even if that cunt Stannis is."

Sansa rolled her eyes and also melted a bit. Her guy was a bit of a drama queen.

"Baby, I'm safe on the plane and Renly will be right there, picking me up."

He's grunted and grabbed her hand, kissing it.

"Fucking sucks, you're not back until late Friday."

The Wolves, which had won last night, and were now 3-0 on the season, had two out of town games, of which, Sansa was not attending. It meant that with their schedules, Sansa wouldn't see Sandor until the team returned late Saturday night, and she knew they were both feeling this short separation. When they'd gotten to the airport, she'd checked in and then hung out with Sandor until she had to go through security. For a brief moment, she wondered if he'd let her go, and then finally, he kissed her deeply.

"Love you, little bird."

"Love you, big guy."

"Text me," he said, and she saw the worry and slight doubt in his face.

"Always." She gave him one last kiss and then she was off.

Now she was replaying that last moment while Renly and Loras kissed. Sansa loved that her temporary bodyguard and the best hair colorist in Westeros were a thing. A hot and heavy item. She giggled as Renly's assistant got her a glass of wine, texted a picture of her sitting in the chair at the salon to her IG account with the hashtags

#goingbacktored #changeiscoming #redforClegane

When Sansa had told Sandor, she was changing her hair back to her natural red, and he'd made a growly noise that she loved and then made her promise he'd get the first picture.

Of course, her IG blew up with people anxious to see the end result, and Sansa sat back and let Renly, Loras and the magic of Olaplex and a talented colorist work their magic.

Four hours later, Sansa squealed and hugged Loras. Her hair was amazing, and she absolutely loved it. Loras took several photos, and as promised, Sansa sent them all to Sandor. She was expecting a text back when her phone rang, and she opened her Facetime to take his call.

"Fuck sakes little bird, you look amazing," he said, his deep voice rumbling.

"Ohhh, is that the boyfriend?" Loras asked. "Is he shirtless?"

Sansa giggled as Sandor frowned.

"Who the fuck is that?"

"That is Loras, the god of hair colour!" Sansa said to his frowny face. Suddenly Renly and Loras crowded around her, and while Sandor wasn't shirtless, he was in work out shirt with no sleeves that showed off some of his many tats and muscles.

"Holy shit, San. He's some fine man candy," Loras said as Renly waved at Sandor.

"Your girl's hair looks amazing," Renly told Sandor, who grunted.

"Yeah, it does."

"Bye, handsome. We'll take good care of her while she'd down here," Renly added to Sandor's grunt.

When it was the two of them, Sansa fluffed her hair. "So, you like it?"

"Yeah, I love it, babe. I wish you were at home. It feels lonely here. Sweetie misses you. I miss you."

"Aww, I miss you two. But a few more days, and then we'll have some time together."

They spoke for a few more minutes and then signed off, and Sandor gave her the green light to post to her IG account. Loras took a few more photos, and one of them together before Sansa put it up. She knew it would go viral, so she shot Pod a quick text to give him the heads up. When she left, she promised to have dinner with Renly and Loras tomorrow night before she left King's Landing, and she knew she had a new friend in Loras Tyrell.

That night, lying in her huge king bed alone in her hotel room, Sansa spent hours talking with Sandor. This was a big test for their relationship, and she knew it was hard on both of them. Where before the city had seemed exciting and fun, now she just missed the peace and quiet of the North.

"So, you have your meeting with Tywin tomorrow?" Sandor finally asked.

"Yup. Guess we'll see if he likes my proposal or not."

"He will," Sandor said, full of confidence. "You're brilliant, Sansa. He'd be an idiot not to invest with you."

Sandor's support was everything. Here was a man that had treated him in the worst possible way, and he was supportive because he knew how much this meant to her. It was crazy how she had become so used to sleeping beside him, and she missed him, now that they were eight hundred miles apart from one another.

When they finally hung up, Sansa pulled one of her favourite Sandor t-shirts on and curled up to sleep, at least feeling close to him as she was wrapped up in his scent.

* * *

The next morning Renly knocked on her door, and she welcomed him inside. She was dressed in what she considered proper business attire that suited her style – a fitted white button-down shirt and a black pencil skirt with a detailed belt. She slipped into her favourite Louboutin black heels, adding to her already impressive height, donned a designer blazed and grabbed her green Birkin bag.

Renly whistled, and Sansa shot him a sassy grin and did a little twirl.

"Am I ready to take on the Great Lion?"

He nodded, and Sansa grabbed the portfolio that had her business case, checked her makeup once more and then they were out the door, Renly driving them towards the office that Tywin kept in the capital.

Oddly, Sansa wasn't nervous. Tywin would either choose to invest in her or not. She knew her plan was solid, and her numbers conservative. If he knew the make-up business, if he'd done any research at all, he'd know as well as her that there was a profit to be made.

When they zoomed up the elevator to the top floor of the tallest building in King's Landing, Sansa knew that things were serious. Tywin was not a man who'd appreciate his time wasted, so she gave her self a mental pep talk, just as her phone chimed.

Sandor: You got this LB. Love you, babe.

She smiled and then, full of confidence and swagger, walking into the heart of the lion's den.

"Ms. Stark," Tywin said, smiling at her as she was escorted into his inner sanctum. Sansa doubted anyone had the view he did, and she gave a low whistle.

He smiled, leonine and graceful and shrugged. "I like beautiful things."

Sansa appreciated that he didn't try to be someone he was not. The suit he wore was bespoke and cost upwards of five figures, his office was filled with a few priceless antiques, and he had an original Renoir on the wall. Tywin Lannister lived life well.

He guided her to a chair and asked if she needed something to drink. Too nervous, she shook her head. He took his seat and folded his hands.

"The floor, as they say, is yours, Ms. Stark."

She gave him the business case she'd drawn up and then spoke.

He listened, his green-gold eyes not leaving hers. "Essentially, I am looking for a 10% investment in my company to move it North."

"And I am expected to be a silent partner?"

"Yes."

"Hmm," he opened her business case and read it over. Thoroughly while she sat and waited. Sansa wondered if she'd made a huge mistake when he said nothing, until finally, fifteen minutes later he closed the document and looked at her.

"I want a vote on the board," he said, and she schooled herself not to react. "And I want a bigger cut. Twenty percent."

"Twelve and you can attend the monthly management meetings as the representative for the investors."

"Eighteen."

"Fifteen."

"Done," he said, rising and holding out his hand. Stunned, Sansa gripped his and shook it. Then a smile bloomed across his handsome face.

"Holy crap, did this just really happen?" she whispered and then coloured immediately.

His laugh was deep. "It did. Come on. Let's get out of here. Coffee Ms. Stark?”

"Yes," she said and allowed him to escort her from the building. She sent a quick thumbs-up emoji to Sandor, and he sent one back with a kiss and heart. Gods, she loved that man. He was her rock, her entire world.

Now that they were partners of a type, Tywin was open and engaging, speaking to her of his ideas for her move North.

"It's brilliant—such untapped potential. I did my research, Ms. Stark. Make-up can be extremely lucrative, and I'm excited as it's not an area I've previously been involved with."

Tywin was opening the door to a café when Sansa felt a chill skitter over her spine. She stopped and saw Ramsay Bolton there, in front of her. Thank gods both Tywin and Renly were with her.

As if sensing something were amiss, Renly immediately moved to protect her, shielding her as it were with his body as Ramsay blocked the entrance to the café.

"Excuse me," Tywin said, voice cold and hard. Most people would have moved, given such a look. Ramsay was not most people.

Ramsay didn't even look at him, but the smile that bloomed on his face as he looked at Sansa made her stomach roil.

"Sansa. Dear, sweet Sansa."

His voice was oily and dark, and Sansa had to keep herself from shuddering. She felt Tywin's hand on her back, and it was comforting, and she thanked the gods for him and Renly.

"Ramsay. There is a restraining order."

He held up his hands. "How was I to know where you were, sweet Sansa? Last I checked you were in the North.”

"Leave," Tywin snarled, and finally, Ramsay glanced at him.

"Traded in your dog for a lion. Impressive."

There was nothing 'impressive' in his look. He was eyeing her up like she was a piece of flesh, and he wanted a bite. It was clear that Ramsay assumed that Sansa was sleeping with Tywin, which was not the case.

Tywin glanced Renly, who made a move to open his phone.

"You need to go. Sansa has a restraining order against you. Leave, now before I phone the police," Renly said, voice cool and totally in control.

Sansa stepped back, and Ramsay went around her until finally he was gone, and Tywin guided her to a chair.

"Call Sandor, Sansa," he ordered softly, using Sandor's name for the first time.

Shakily, she took her phone out and dialled him, thankful he wasn't at practice. He knew immediately that something had happened, and she told him in fits and starts.

"Put Tywin on the phone, little bird," Sandor ordered, and she handed her phone to Tywin.

She could hear their conversation.

"I know you don't like me, but she is everything to me," Sandor snarled. "You have the resources to find out what the fuck Ramsay Bolton is up to. I don't give a fuck what you say to me, how you treat me. But she is everything."

"Agreed, Clegane. I'm on it. I'll have my people look into this Ramsay Bolton immediately."

Tywin passed the phone back to Sansa, and she spoke with Sandor.

"Sorry, baby," she started to say.

"Don't Sansa. He's a fucking psycho. None of this is your fault, baby. Stay with Renly. I'm phoning Stannis now. Do you want to come home?"

Sansa thought about it. She had a meeting this afternoon with Dany and dinner with Loras and Renly, plus her time with Yohn. Thinking of all that, she started to shake.

Tywin plucked the phone from her hand. "Sandor, she can take my private plane home, with her bodyguard. She'll be 100% safe until she is back in the North."

"Thank you," Sansa heard Sandor say gruffly into the phone. "I can pay…"

"Stop, Sandor. That is not necessary. Her safety is of the utmost importance. That is all that matters."

When Tywin finally hung up, he gave her a gentle smile. "Let's get you packed up and home, Sansa, to the North."

"Thank you," she said, tears gathering as the reality of the situation slammed into her. She went through the motions almost robotically, until she was hugging Tywin at the airport as he ushered her onto his plane.

"My dear, you are most welcome. Please, let me know when you are home safe."

Sansa nodded and then brushed a chaste kiss across Tywin's cheek. This man, this very cold and harsh man, had come through in the best way for her today. When she was aboard her plane, with Renly by her side, she finally texted Sandor again. She knew her guy would be losing his mind, and she wanted to reassure him.

Renly was busy ordering the tape from the café and coordinating with Stannis to file another report with the Wintertown police. Sansa blocked it all out as the plane lifted off, and she flew away from King's Landing. It had been her home for a time, and while it no longer was, because of Ramsay, it now felt tainted and dangerous. She hated that. She hated what this man was doing to her. To her and to Sandor.

When they finally landed two hours later, Sansa was wrung dry. She exited the plane to see Sandor standing there, along with her entire family. She barely glanced at them as she sprinted to him and was in his strong arms. He held her close, and she finally, for the first time, felt safe.

"Fucking hells," he muttered before his lips were on hers, his hands in her hair and her body pinned to his. She sobbed into the kiss, shaking and letting the fear melt away.

She was at home. She was with Sandor. She was safe. After Sandor finally let her go, she hugged her family and reassured them that she was okay. Renly gave them a full accounting of what had happened and more than one Stark was happy that he'd been there for Sansa.

Of course, it wasn't quite that simple. They had to stop at the police station and report the encounter. The same old excuse was given.

_Ms. Stark, there was no conceivable way that Mr. Bolton could have known you were there. _

_We talked with him, and he assures us it was nothing more than a coincidence._

Sandor had snarled and clenched his fists, while Robb and her father had called the police some choice names. In the end, Sansa knew that they were correct. There was nothing they could prove. How as it even possible he'd known she would be there? She hadn't even known she would be there. In the end, she begged Sandor to take her home.

Sansa was silent as she moved through their house, finally stripping down and stepping into the shower. She sobbed when Sandor's strong arms came to wrap her up. Her man just held her, even though Sansa knew he had to be angry.

When she was done, he helped towel her dry, and she crawled into their bed, grateful he joined her.

"Shhhh," he said as she clung to him.

"I'm just scared. What's next? How did he even find me, Sandor?"

"I don't know, little bird."

They were quiet for a time.

"I fucking hate that I have to go away this weekend," Sandor murmured into her ear. For now, Renly was joining Brienne here, and she was as safe as she could be.

"I know. But I'll be fine. I have extra security, Sandor."

"I couldn't, Sansa… if something were to happen to you…"

"Shhhhh, maybe it was a coincidence," she said, even though neither believed it.

Finally, the sleeping pill she'd taken earlier began to kick in, and Sansa felt her eyelids droop. When she eventually drifted off to sleep, she felt Sandor's arms tighten around her, and she thought she heard something about a bird and how much he loved it. Then she was out, drifting into a dreamless sleep, where no nightmares chased her and, finally, she was blessedly safe.

To say that her family was worried about her would have been an understatement. Her father had gone so far as to change the team travel day to Friday morning for their game that night when typically they'd have left the day before. Thankfully they were playing the team from White Harbour, so it was a quick charter flight.

Sandor, of course, was the worst, literally hovering over her. He was surly and barked out orders at both Renly and Brienne and then was gentle and sweet with her. Sansa finally had to convince him that she was fine and that he needed to concentrate on his games.

Being home in the North, in her home, she almost felt silly for cancelling on seeing Dany and Yohn, but they both said they understood.

When Tywin phoned the next day, he and Sandor had a somewhat tense but polite conversation, and the Great Lion promised he was looking into things. Sandor told him how useless the police were, and Tywin pledged to use his considerable influence to try to link Ramsay to something he could be held on.

Ned, Rickon and Robb all had to drag Sandor out the door for their flight, as he was muttering that he'd skip this weekend.

"White Harbour's team is shit anyways, I could miss it," he was saying as Sansa rolled his eyes at him. All three Stark men were trying not to be amused, but it was hard.

"Sandor, love, look at me," Sansa said, grabbing him by the arm. He stilled, and she saw the worry there.

"I have both Renly and Brienne and Sweetie. The alarm system has been checked, and Stannis and Tywin are looking into things. I'll be fine, baby. Go. Play hockey. Kickbutt."

"You should come," he said, and she laughed.

"I can't. I have a million things to do here, and I missed out on some important meetings when I came home early. Go. I'll be fine."

He clung to her before kissing her hard and finally turning to leave. She stood and waved until he was out of sight and then closed and locked the door, prepared to dive into her business plan. First up was working with the firm she'd hired to headhunt the right people for her new offices up North. That and contact the realtor. And Yohn. Her list was endless, and she hadn't been lying when she'd told Sandor she had a million things to do.

Of course, her, Brienne and Renly watched the game. As predicted, the Wolves kicked ass, the final score 5-0. Sansa Facetimed Sandor afterwards, and that seemed to calm him down, especially when both Renly and Brienne said hi to him.

Saturday was equally as busy for Sansa. She made a few phone calls and had an appointment on Tuesday for a contractor to come to the house to give her a quote on making her some proper office and studio space. She met the girls for lunch and heard how Wyn had finally given in and kissed Jon.

"It was after the BBQ. I just couldn't find a reason to say no," she sighed, and they all laughed at her but were secretly happy that she'd made a move.

Dacey gushed over Robb and confirmed that yes, there were thinking of moving in together.

Sansa knew that was a real commitment by her brother, giving up his shared bachelor pad and looking for a house.

"I hope you don't mind, San, but we're looking in your neighbourhood."

"Of course, I don't mind!" Sansa cried.

The girls avoided all talk of Ramsay; they'd all been briefed, but lunch was a way to distract Sansa and take her mind off, not spend two hours rehashing it. When she got home, she checked in with her bodyguards and then had a nice long bath, talking with Sandor after he'd woken up from his pre-game nap. He insisted and checking her out in the tub, and then groaned.

"Are you touching your dick?" she asked, and he grinned.

"Hell yeah, babe. Show me your boobs," he said, winking at her, and she sputtered but then jiggled her chest, loving it when he grunted.

_Oh my god_, she thought. _Was he seriously going to whack off while they were Facetime? _

"Christ woman, just thinking of you bent over the couch, and I'm so fucking close," he muttered.

It appeared so.

_The least she could do was help, right?_

She knew he played better when he was loose and relaxed.

"God, I love how big your dick is," she said, blushing furiously but watching as his hand sped up.

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. So big, Sandor. It fills me up," she said, cringing at herself. It fills me up? She was the worst at this.

But apparently not, as he asked for more and she stumbled through a few more sentences before he made his orgasm face and came hard, letting her watch the whole thing. It was surprisingly hot and sweet, and she felt close to him.

"Gods, little bird, that was awesome," he said, before blowing her a kiss, telling her he loved her and then saying he had to shower, eat and meet up with the team.

The game that night was a blow out as well, this time 4-1 and the Wolves were now 5 and 0 on the season. Happy, Sansa hummed as she readied herself for bed. She Facetimed Sandor again, and she knew he was excited to come home tomorrow morning. Their charter flight couldn't leave tonight due to poor weather, and he was grumpy but resigned.

"Fucking can't wait to see you," he told her and Sansa agreed. Then she yawned.

"K baby, I'm going to sleep. The sooner I sleep, the sooner I see you."

Sandor nodded. "Love you, little bird. See you soon."

"Love you, Sandor."

Sansa plugged in her phone, turned off her lamp and whistled for Sweetie. Sandor's bed, already huge, felt impossibly big when he was gone. When Sweetie curled up around her, Sansa happily drifted off to sleep, dreaming of her guy and the sexy times that awaited her when he was home.

Sansa had no idea what woke her first, the thick choking smoke that filled the bedroom, or Sweetie's barking. It had to be a combination of both. Either way, she coughed violently and felt like her head swim. She was dizzy, and she couldn't breathe, and she had no idea which way the door even was.

She tried to suck in a lung full of air, but only got more smoke, which led to more choking. The black spots were swimming in front of her eyes, and she remembered something about when in a fire, go low, so she rolled off the bed. If she could just get some air and make her way to the terrace, she could breathe.

Disorientated, she must have miscalculated where she was, because instead of landing on the floor, she smashed her head against her nightstand, and a bright burst of pain went through her skull before her eyes shut. She fell, unconscious to the floor, as the dog barked and smoke and fire engulfed her dream home, where her entire world was going up flames.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the fire

_ [Picset ](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/613798738580897792/chapter-20-power-play) _

_ Sandor _

Sandor grunted as his phone rang, groping around in the darkened hotel room to find it. He fucking hated being away from Sansa, being away from his home and everything that was familiar to him.

As he swiped it open, he briefly saw that it was 1:43 am, and his stomach clenched. No good phone call ever came in the middle of the night.

"What?" he barked.

"Sandor, it's Brienne," came the worried voice. Sandor's guts churned, and his blood went cold. Sansa! It had to be something with Sansa. His mind raced with worst-case scenarios.

"What the fuck happened?"

"There was a fire. In the house. Sweetie dragged her to safety. The fire was somehow worse on the second floor, and neither Renly nor I could get to her."

"Is she…" The word stuck in Sandor's throat. He couldn't make himself say it. He couldn't even imagine what he might do if Brienne told him that she was dead.

"No, Sandor. She was taken away by the ambulance crew, due to a wound on her head and some serious smoke inhalation, but your dog saved her Sandor. The entire top part of the house is gone. Five more minutes, and things would be a lot worse."

Sandor was already moving, dragging on pants and then ripping his door open.

"I'll be home as soon as possible. Are you with her?"

"Yes. I'm at the hospital. Renly stayed at the house. They're working on containing the fire now, but I'm not sure how bad it's going to be."

"I don't give a fuck about my house Brienne. Where is my dog?"

"With me. She wouldn't leave, and they let her come with me."

"Good. I'll send you a message with my ETA." He hung up on Brienne and then pounded on Ned's door. His face was ashen, and it was clear that he'd heard from Catelyn.

"What did Brienne say?"

"Sansa is in the hospital. House is probably going to be a total wreck. Sweetie is safe."

Ned's shoulder's sagged.

"Which fucking room is Theon in?"

Ned's eyes went wide just as Sandor's phone rang. It was Stannis.

"Clegane, you've heard from Brienne. I want you to know I am making plans to come North immediately. I will undertake a full review of how this happened and coordinate with the local police and arson investigator. Trust me when I say, we will get him if he had anything to do with this."

"And Greyjoy?"

Stannis sighed. "He owes the Bolton's a ton of money. Gambling debt. They were quite clever with how they hid it…" Stannis was still talking, but Sandor didn't hear another word.

"GREYJOY!!!!!!" he yelled down the hallway. When Theon's head emerged, Sandor was like a raging bull. He hauled Theon out and had him pinned to the wall.

"What the fuck did you do, Greyjoy?"

Theon sputtered, eyes wild, looking around. The entire team had spilled out now, and Ned, Robb, Arya and Rickon were standing beside Sandor.

"Someone set my fucking house on fire! Sansa barely fucking escaped. Now Stannis tells me you owe the fucking Bolton's money. So I'll ask you one last time, and then I'm going to start to make you fucking hurt- what the fuck did you do?"

"Nothing," Theon sputtered, shaking his head.

Sandor reached down and ground his hands into Theon's balls.

"I don't care if I fucking make them burst. WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO? She almost died!"

"NOTHING! I just took a picture of your alarm panel and some of your electronics. That's all."

"And you sent that to Ramsay? The fucker that's been stalking her? That she has a restraining order against?"

"He said if I did it, he'd forgive half my debt."

"Fuck sakes, Theon, how much do you owe?"

Theon's mouth clamped shut, and all the Starks starting yelling, but Sandor's mind was reeling. Sure, Stannis was the best, and their home system was state of the art, but a good hacker could get through it. Sandor had always known Ramsay was smart as fuck, so this would have been nothing had he been given away in. Even changing the password hadn't been enough to keep him out.

Sandor turned back to Theon, who was pleading with the Stark's about how he had no idea this would happen.

"She's in the hospital, you stupid fuck," Sandor said, disgusted. He dropped Theon then, not even wanting to touch him. Sandor turned to Ned. "Call the fucking cops. He needs to explain what he did. Then if I need to, I'll charter my own plane home."

"The weather is crap, Sandor." Ned looked pained. "I know you're going out of your mind, but we have to wait until morning."

Sandor snarled at that statement, storming back to his room. He'd fucking drive home right now. It was only eight hours, and he could probably make it before a plane could get him there. Every moment he wasn't with Sansa was destroying him. The thought of her alone, surrounded by fire, made him want to hurl.

Then an idea came to Sandor. Remembering what Tywin had done for Sansa in Kings Landing, he dialled the Old Lion. It took several rings before his rough voice answered.

"Clegane. I assume this is an emergency."

Christ the man was always so composed and the master at understatement. 

"There was a fire at my house. Sansa was trapped. She got out, but she's at the hospital."

"And where are you?"

"White Harbour. They say the plane won't leave because there is a storm."

Tywin scoffed. "My pilot was in the air force. I'll send my plane now."

There was silence, and Sandor shuffled his feet. "Thanks."

"It's for her, Clegane. I'm still pissed you didn't sign with the Lions."

Sandor went to protest.

"But I was wrong as well. I shouldn't have lowballed you—my mistake. Please keep me informed of Ms. Stark's condition. Have you discovered a cause?"

Sandor growled. "Greyjoy owed him money. A shit ton of money."

"Hmmmmm," was all Tywin said, and for the first time, the man's fearsome reputation was working Sandor's favour.

"You have something," Sandor demanded.

Tywin laughed, and it was as cold as any winter day in the North.

"Let's just say that since my attention turned to Sansa, this issue with the Bolton's has captivated my attention. I'll send my plane, Clegane. Be ready." Tywin hung up, and Sandor scrambled to jam the rest of his shit into his bag, honestly not caring about it at all. When he strode out of his room, Robb, Rickon, Arya and Ned were waiting for him.

"Found us a ride?" Robb said, face grim.

"Tywin."

If the Starks were surprised, they said nothing. Theon was nowhere to be seen, and Ned had left instructions with Coach Cassel to get the rest of the team back to Wintertown tomorrow.

Sandor texted Brienne that they were on their way.

**Sandor**: Any change?

**Brienne**: Nothing. Although Renly says that the fire is mostly out. Cat is here at the hospital with me.

**Sandor**: Good. We should be there in a couple of hours.

There was an SUV waiting, that sped them to the airport, where an hour and a half later, they boarded Tywin's sleek jet.

"Ride's gonna be bumpy as fuck," the pilot said. "No inflight service, but I'll get you home. Hang on and buckle up."

When they had, he taxied them down the runway, and into the stormy night.

Sandor had no idea how the fuck they were allowed to take off, but he swore he'd send the man the biggest bonus he could come up with, when fifty five minutes later, and a hell of a lot of turbulence, they landed in Wintertown. Another SUV was waiting, and within twenty minutes, Sandor was striding into the ER. He saw Brienne first, with Sweetie, who just about went out of her mind when she saw him.

Sandor dropped to his knees and buried his face in her fur, which reeked of smoke. She was licking him, and he was sobbing into her neck.

"You saved Mama, huh, baby. Such a good girl," he crooned to her, finally picking her up so she could wiggle around in his arms. They were standing like that when Sandor finally realized that Cat was there as well. The Starks had her surrounded.

"Any update?"

Cat shook her head.

"No. They have her isolated and are checking her out. They said she lost consciousness, has a bump on her head and inhaled quite a bit of smoke, so they were worried about her lungs."

Sandor wanted to puke. To rage. To weep. The woman he loved, the woman who was his entire fucking world, was hurt, and he hadn't been there to keep her safe. He was lost in his own shortcomings when a doctor emerged from behind the doors. The Starks, Brienne and Sandor, still carrying Sweetie, rushed forward.

"I assume you are all here for Ms. Stark."

They nodded.

"And this must be her dog that saved her life," the doc said, smiling tiredly at Sweetie.

"Saved her life? It was that bad?" Ned asked.

The doctor frowned. "People can die within minutes of inhaling smoke during a fire. Sansa Stark was incredibly lucky. When she tried to get out, she hurt her head, rendering her unconscious. She was lucky that she fell to the floor. From there, it appears the dog dragged her to the terrace, where, groggily, she was able to open the door. Once again, the dog dragged her into the fresh air on the terrace, where Ms. Stark was rescued by fire personnel. Had she been inside for much longer, I'm afraid we'd be having a very different conversation."

Sandor felt his knees might go weak with that news. It had been so close!

"But she's fine?"

The doctor sighed. "Her lungs inhaled a lot of smoke, and we won't know for sure until we run more tests if any of it was toxic. For now, we have her on a respirator to help with her breathing. She also had a head wound that we've stitched and a massive headache. But she's asking for someone named Sandor."

Sandor felt relief course through his body.

"That's me. She's my… fuck doc - she's everything.”

The doctor smiled at Sandor.

"You'll have to leave your hero dog, but you can come and see her now. One at a time, and you can't stay long as I have her in the ICU. We need to monitor her. But come with me."

Sandor set Sweetie down, and Arya held onto the dog as he turned to the Starks. He suddenly wondered if they wanted to go first - if he'd overstepped.

"Go!" they all said.

"You're her guy, Sandor," Ned told him, clutching at Catelyn. "She wants you."

Mumbling he'd tell her they were all there, Sandor turned to follow the doctor to the ICU. Sandor saw the two policemen in the hallway, and they nodded at him. Personally, he thought it was too fucking late considering where Sansa currently was, but that battle could wait for another day and time. He had half a mind to sue the fuck out of the Wintertown police force for how incompetent they'd been.

Once there, a nurse made him gown up and wash his hands before they took him inside to where Sansa was. She looked impossibly small on her bed, with the tube in her nose and another line in her arm. Sandor could see where she'd hurt herself, and she was so pale she was almost the same colour as the sheets on the bed. Her brilliant red hair was the only life as she breathed shallowly, her eyes closed. He approached quietly, not wanting to disturb her, just as she opened her eyes and saw him.

Big fat tears rolled down her cheeks, and Sandor was there, pressing his forehead to hers, holding her as gently as he could.

"Hush, little bird, I'm here now," he rasped, hating to see her like this. He collapsed into the chair so that he could be by her side.

"You came."

"Course I came, Sansa."

"How?"

"Tywin."

She nodded and squeezed his hand. "I'm so sorry about the house, Sandor. I don't know why the alarms didn't go off. I woke up, and there was all this smoke, and I tried to find my way, and then I smashed my head. It was Sweetie that dragged me to the terrace," she said, starting to cry again.

"That's enough, love," Sandor commanded gently. "Enough for now. Sweetie is fine. It's just a house, Sansa."

"But it's our house," she whispered brokenly.

"And the two most important things in that house are you and Sweetie. And you're both safe. We'll find a bigger house, Sansa, a better house."

"Ok," she said and then winced in pain.

"Close your eyes, baby. I'm here, and so is your entire family."

"They're here?"

"Of course love," Sandor said, leaning over to brush his lips across her forehead. She looked so fragile, so tiny in the hospital bed. Sandor hated the sounds, the sight, the smells of such a place. It brought the memories of his mother rushing back, and he had to force himself to gentle his touch and tone so that none of his history would touch her. She was alive, somehow, against the odds, here, safe. 

"Oh," she said, eyes filling when she heard that everyone was here. As if they'd be anywhere else. She was so loved. Sandor wiped away the tears that fell down her cheeks. It gutted Sandor when she cried.

"Little bird, stop. Just sleep. I'll send your Dad in later. I'm going to tell them how you are, and then I'll be back."

Sandor sat and watched as she fell asleep, and then stayed for a few more minutes before he finally rose to go back and find her family.

They were the way he'd left them in the waiting room, looking exhausted.

Except now, Jeyne, Wyn and Dacey were there. Dacey was wrapped up in Robb's arms, while Wyn and Jeyne were holding onto one another. Sweetie was with Rickon, and the kid looked absolutely wrecked. Sandor knew that Rickon and Sansa were extremely close, and he knew this family had been through hell these past few months with Cat's cancer diagnosis.

Fuck, Sandor thought. Her friends!

He hadn't even given them a second thought when the call had come in. His entire brain had just told him to get to Sansa.

There must have been something on his face because they took one look at him and visibly relaxed.

He gave the update and then watched as Ned took over, gently commanding everyone to go home and leave Sandor with Sansa. Unfortunately, given Catelyn's delicate health situation, her spending time in the hospital wasn't great.

"I'll take some pictures when she's up and then text the group," Sandor said as his phone chimed. Rickon had set up a group message with all the Starks and included Sandor, along with Mama B and Addam, and Sansa's friends. Something warmed in the big man to see his family included with these people. 

Sandor turned to Brienne. "Any word from Renly?"

She was pale and had a soot stain on her face. Sandor knew that Tormund would be out of his mind worrying about Brienne, and the guilt on the big woman's face was plain for all to see. Sandor didn't know what the fuck had gone on, and right now, his anger was a low simmer - he just had no idea who the fuck to direct it to.

Ramsay?

Theon?

Roose?

Stannis?

Renly and Brienne?

The fucking police who were useless cunts and couldn't do their jobs?

Sandor took three deep breaths, trying to push it away. Right now, the Starks and Sansa needed him calm and in charge.

She nodded. "The fire is out. They have to wait for it to cool, but for now, there are cops and firemen all over it."

"And, Stannis?"

Brienne's lips thinned. "He's angry; angrier than I've ever seen him."

"He fucking should be—some goddamn security. Tell him to contact Tywin Lannister. He found something."

Brienne swallowed hard and stiffened. "Is that wise? They aren't known to get along."

Sandor's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You think I give a single fuck who gets along with who right now? She almost fucking died, Brienne. Tell Stannis to get in touch with Tywin."

Brienne nodded. "I will. For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Sandor. By the time we realized the house was on fire, we couldn't get to her. There were no alarms, and we'd done our perimeter check. Nothing was out of the ordinary. When we finally knew what was happening, we couldn't get upstairs to her…" Brienne's voice trailed off as Sandor's fist clenched.

Sandor wanted to snap and snarl at her. He could tell she was barely holding herself together and was an easy target for the rage that threatened to consume him. It was only a gentle hand on his arm that calmed him.

"Sandor, enough," Cat said softly. Her eyes held a wealth of sympathy for him. The anger drained out of him and in its place, crippling guilt.

"I left her," he whispered raggedly to Cat, who guided him to a seat. The Stark matriarch shot a look to her family, and everyone cleared out, leaving Sandor with Sansa's parents.

"I fucking left her. I knew Ramsay was bad news. From day fucking one. And I went away. To play hockey," Sandor spat, disgusted with himself.

"Stop," Cat commanded. She cupped his face, scars and all, forcing him to look at her.

"Neither you nor Sansa are responsible in any way for what happened."

"How do you not hate me? I pissed Ramsay off. It's because of me that he's after her."

Cat shook her head. "Gods no, Sandor. You have done everything right. You have paid for round the clock security for her, reported him to the police, been cautious."

"Before her, nothing mattered to me but hockey. But now? It's her. I don't care about it. I'll quit if I need to."

Ned sat down on the other side of Sandor.   
  
"Alright, son, let's take a few deep breaths. Like my wife said, you've done nothing wrong. Sansa wouldn't want you to make any hasty decisions. And you now have both Stannis and Tywin looking into this. I might not like Tywin Lannister, but even I wouldn't cross him. We know about Theon, and last I heard, he's cooperating with the police. There will be an investigation, and I can assure you, this matter WILL be taken seriously. For now, stay with Sansa, and when she's ready to come home, there is a place for you both at Winterfell. You're family, Sandor."

Too choked up to respond, Sandor let the Starks hug him. When he watched them leave, hand in hand, he hoped like hell he and Sansa would have what they did. Their marriage, like his own parents, was what he wanted.

Sandor was just about to turn back to the ICU when his phone rang. Seeing Baratheon Security Inc, Sandor opened it and snarled out a _what_?

Stannis sighed. "I have no words, Sandor. We failed you and Sansa."

"Fucking right, you did."

"I've sent my most loyal and diligent man to protect her. His name is Davos, and he arrived a few minutes ago. He might seem unassuming, but I assure you, he's lethal."

"Good."

Sandor was done taking chances with Sansa's safety. She might chafe at the new measures, but until Ramsay was locked away, she'd be guarded all the fucking time.

"I am in touch with Tywin, and I assure you, we will have something for the police on this matter. I've also heard from a man named Cassel, regarding a confession of sorts by Theon Greyjoy. A picture is forming, Sandor and I will, with your permission, coordinate with the local police on their investigation. I have some thoughts on how this might have happened."

Through his own rage, guilt and grief, Sandor heard the shame and the anger in Stannis Baratheon's voice. It was then that he realized that this had turned personal for the man and that no matter what, Ramsay Bolton would not get away with this.

"Keep me in the loop. We'll be at Winterfell when Sansa is released," Sandor told Stannis.

"I'm texting you a picture of Davos. Trust me, Clegane, he won't let anyone hurt her. Not again."

Sandor heaved a weary sigh, as his phone buzzed. He frowned at the picture that Stannis sent, thinking there was no way this man could be the most lethal member of Stannis's team. Then he shrugged and put his phone away, eager to get back to Sansa and assure her that he'd be there for her through this all. Sandor hadn't been lying to the Starks. If it came down to hockey or Sansa, Sandor would always, _always_ choose Sansa.

* * *

_ Sansa  _

The following days in the hospital were a blur to Sansa.

In between sleeping, eating, getting medical updates, Sansa worried about Sandor as he never left her side. She weened herself off the painkillers they were giving her, let Brienne and Renly apologize to her (even though Sansa insisted it wasn't necessary).

She had a video chat with her Mom, cried with her Dad, reassured Robb and Rickon she was okay, had another video chat with her friends, then one with Sandor's parents.

She also talked with Royce and Pod to help navigate some of the business end of things that had been interrupted for her.

Finally she met the most unassuming man named Davos, whom she was told was a lethal killer and her new guard.

Sandor's jaw had been granite when he'd announced that - his big arms crossed over his chest as if she might challenge him on it. Sansa knew he was reacting to what had happened to her, and while now was not the time to bring it up, they would be discussing his hovering.

She got it.

She did.

She didn't think her guy realized just how much he talked to himself, and sometimes, when her eyes were closed, when she wasn't sleeping but just resting, and she heard him muttering about how much he blamed himself. It was ridiculous, and she'd asked her Dad if Sandor had been to the rink lately, on their latest call.

"No, hun, he won't leave your side."

Sansa grunted at that thought as she sat up. She'd been moved out of the ICU on Sunday evening, into a private room, and was being discharged today, two days later. She'd inhaled some smoke, and they wanted to do some follow-up tests, but overall, the doctors were happy with her healing and more than happy to send her home.

The Wolves' next game was tomorrow night, in town, and Sansa knew that Sandor had to be there. He couldn't just hover forever, and since they had no home of their own to go to, she'd be well looked after at Winterfell.

The police had been by, and together she and Sandor had walked them through all the Ramsay and Theon stuff. The detective now in charge of her case, since it was being treated as arson and attempted homicide, was miles more competent than the previous ones they'd dealt with.

He has a hard-looking man and promised not to stop until they had something. The man with him was the arson investigator, and both had been grim with the news that their initial findings had pointed to the fire being deliberately set.

"No fucking shit. Don't need your fancy fucking badges to tell you that. He's been stalking her for weeks now."

Sandor had been particularly snappish on him, and Sansa has let him rant. In truth, she was upset and angry at how they hadn't taken the threat of Ramsay Bolton seriously. Theon was fully cooperating with them, and along with 'help' from Tywin and Stannis, word had come that Roose Bolton was in a panic. Sansa had little sympathy for the man, who'd failed to reign in his son and his psychopathic ways.

"What fucking started the fire?"

Both men from the Wintertown PD exchanged a glance before they said an accelerant. That was all they would say for now.

"Don't leave town, Ms. Stark," they told her and Sandor snarled.

"Fuck off. She's not under arrest. If I'm out of town, she's sure as fuck coming with me."

Since they hadn't discussed that at all, Sansa gave Sandor a look.

"Don't fucking start, little bird. You think I can play if you're not with me? As it is, your father keeps asking if I'm coming back for tomorrow night's game."

The cops rose, sensing this was now a private conversation. They gave them their numbers and promised to be in touch.

"We're not sure how you got Tywin Lannister on your side, Ms. Stark, but he's a man that demands attention," was all they said as they left her room.

When they were alone, Sansa gave Sandor a look.

"What?"

"Sandor, you have to play hockey."

"Fuck that," he said. His beard was longer than she'd seen, his clothes dishevelled, and his eyes bloodshot.

"Ummmm, no, not F that. I love watching you play hockey, Sandor. I'm going to be home, in Winterfell, with my Mom and Brienne, Davos and Renly. The cops said they'd send someone by on patrol, and my parents' place is secure. I will be safe."

He snarled and turned away, running his hands through his dark hair. Sansa was trying to have patience with him. She couldn't imagine if she'd received the call he did. And knowing that it had been a fire?

She hadn't even had time to mourn their house, which she was told had extensive damage. She wasn't emotionally prepared to see it yet, and since it was still a crime scene, they hadn't allowed Sandor back yet either. Thank god she still had a ton of stuff at her parents' guest home, her shopping addiction coming in handy for once. That's where she and Sandor were going to be staying when she was discharged in a few hours.

"Baby, come here," she commanded softly, and he grumbled but turned to sit on the edge of her hospital bed. Miraculously, she didn't have a single burn on her. She pressed her forehead to Sandor's. "I love you. I can't even imagine what you've gone through these past few days, Sandor. I'm so sorry this happened. I loved our house what we were building there. And because of me, Ramsay destroyed it."

"Fuck that," he snapped. "That's not on you."

Her eyes flashed. "Just like it's not on you that he came for me, when you were away, Sandor. You've done everything to protect me. Don't drive a wedge between us. Don't let him steal our happiness."

Sandor choked up and then a sob tore loose. "Sansa, you have no idea what I felt when I got that call. All I knew was there had been a fire, and you were in the hospital."

"I know," she crooned, stroking his scarred cheek. "I know. I can't imagine it. But I'm safe, baby. I'm safe. And I'm here, and I love you so much, Sandor. Please, don't give up the things you love. Not for him. I need to see you kick ass on the ice, and then come home to me."

"This was too close, Sansa. I almost lost you."

"I know." She gripped him harder. "I know. But I'm here, Sandor."

He shuddered out a breath. "Are you sure about hockey?"

Sansa knew her grin was huge. "Oh, heck yeah."

Sandor's lips crashed into hers, and she felt all that pent up emotion there. She kissed him back, hard.

"You're my life, Sansa. My fucking life."

"And you're mine. Now go find the doctor and let's get me discharged."

It was hours before Sansa finally snuggled on her couch, watching as Sandor stalked around the little guest house. Sweetie was beside her. The moment Ned had pulled up with Sandor's SUV to bring them home, Sansa has cried buckets seeing their dog in the vehicle. Sweetie was a hero, and the local news had run with the story, highlighting how she'd saved Sansa. She was as much a celebrity these days as Sandor and Sansa, and Royce and Wyn had worked together to put out statements requesting privacy for Sansan.

Now, wrapped in a soft minky blanket, Sweetie by her side and a cup of tea in her hands, Sansa smiled as Rickon popped in to check on her. Her little brother had been keeping her in smiles, sending her funny GIFs and silly jokes, while Robb and Dacey provided a daily update on their hunt for a house.

Arya and Gendry had also taken the last day to rescue a dog, a smaller, white pit bull cross that they named Lucy and her and Sweetie were instant besties.

Sansa felt worlds better being at home, even with Sandor's hovering.

"He's just worried lass," Davos said, patting her on the knee. Sansa had a hard time believing that the kindly man with the accent was a deadly bodyguard, but she felt better with him here. Davos inspired confidence. 

All in all, it was lovely to be back in a home, even if it wasn't their home. Sansa knew it was silly, but she was in mourning over the destruction of it. It felt so… mean.

Sandor assured her that they'd either rebuild if she wanted or "buy something better." He had been muttering about somewhere private, in the woods where he could "Fucking defend her better."

Sansa understood that it would take a good long time for Sandor to feel safe again. Ramsay had violated that in the most fundamental way.

That night, after her family had all been by to visit, and Sandor has shooed them out claiming Sansa was tired, she happily snuggled up in his arms. Her bed here wasn't nearly as big as their old one, but neither complained, especially when Sweetie joined them.

Sandor shook, and Sansa knew that having her here, in their temporary bed, in his strong arms, he was finally allowing her to see the real depth of his fear.

"I'm safe, Sandor," she kept repeating, turning in the dark to hold on to him. Her big strong guy that was breaking down, who'd held it together until this moment. She stroked his neck, like he liked, letting his tears wash over both of them, saying nothing more until the barrage finally slowed.

"I love you, so god damn much, Sansa," he whispered in the dark. She had never, even in her wildest dreams, imagined someone loving her as Sandor did.

"I love you."

In the coming weeks, Sansa knew she'd suggest they talk to someone together. On top of the trauma from Sandor's childhood, the abuse and neglect, she'd now been in danger from the very thing he feared the most. Sansa wouldn't allow Ramsay to tear them apart.

Sansa brushed her lips against Sandor's, her headache lingering. She knew the next few weeks would be critical for her recovery; while she hadn't given herself a full concussion, her head still hurt. She closed her eyes, feeling Sandor's arms tighten around her.

"You're my whole world, Sansa," she heard him whisper before she drifted off to sleep, finally home and safe with the man she loved.

* * *

While Sandor, reluctantly, went back to the rink on Wednesday morning, Sansa settled on the couch as Davos joined her in the living room to watch daytime television. Sandor had to practically be dragged to the rink by her father and Rickon, both of whom indulged him.

"Keep your phone on you," he told her, voice gruff. Sansa knew how hard this was and promised it was fully charged.

"Davos hovers, as much as you do," she told him.

He grunted at that and was gone.

Sansa napped, on and off for the entire day, waking up when Sandor was home and gently scooped her up to take her upstairs to the bedroom.

While he’d been gone, Davos had made arrangments for an upgraded television to be brought in so that she could watch the game from the comfort of their bed. While her lungs were returning to normal, she still hurt overall, her throat most of all, and she appreciated the little gifts and treats her friends and family had brought by.

Dacey had been by to tell Sansa the joys of house shopping.

"Gods, your brother is a picky bitch," she'd told Sansa. "You'd think after living with Theon and Jon, he wouldn't be so cranky about dual sinks and granite countertops, but sheesh," Dace said, a twinkle in her eye. Sansa was so excited that their relationship was moving along so smoothly now that they'd both opened themselves up to it.

"Robb's always been a bit of a drama queen," Sansa said with a shrug, sipping at her London Fog latte Dace had brought.

"A bit?" She snorted, but secretly, Sansa knew that Dacey loved Robb's dramatic moments. He was over the top, outrageous with a huge heart, and Sansa loved him dearly.

Pod had posted an 'update' on her IG and YouTube accounts, which showed a cartoon wolf sick in bed and asking people to send her get well soon wishes. With over a million comments, Sansa had been touched by the outpouring of love.

Sansa had spoken via video conference to Mama B and Addam. Both had wanted to come back North, but Sansa had gently dissuaded them for now. She knew that she and Sandor needed this time and having them here, while great, was an added burden.

As soon as Sandor had Sansa settled back in bed, Sandor joined her for his pregame nap.

"I hate not being there," Sansa pouted later, watching Sandor dress for the game.

The most shocking thing that had arrived today were two perfectly tailored suits from Sandor's favourite shop in Lannisport, curtesy of Tywin himself. Sandor had only grunted, but Sansa saw that he was touched. She sent a quick text message to Tywin, thanking him. He'd responded immediately and told her not to worry about it and to get better.

There had been no word today on the investigation, and Sansa knew it made Sandor twitchy.

"Stay in bed, LB, and you can cheer from here."

"It's not the same," she said and stuck her lower lip out.

Sandor tugged on it gently, and for the first time since this whole ordeal has started, heat bloomed, lovely and welcome inside Sansa.

"Baby, killing me," Sandor muttered into her mouth. He had been infinitely gentle with her since this whole ordeal, but Sansa loved that right now she felt desire for him flare to life.

"Go be a hockey god, Sandor."

His grin, which Sansa had sorely been missing these past few days, flashed across his face.

"You'll watch?"

"You bet."

Finally, as if satisfied she was comfortable in her little nest of blankets and pillows on their bed, Sweetie by her side, Sandor turned to leave her.

They won that night, again, 3-2 in a hard-fought game against the Eyrie Falcons. Sandor found Sansa with the TV on, her arm curled around the dog, snoring softly when he returned. She woke briefly, kissed him, and then happily settled into his arms, proud of the game he played and the Wolves' winning record.

With two more away games coming up, Sansa knew that the real challenge would be when Sandor had to go away this weekend, and whether or not he could leave her. But she pushed that thought aside, knowing they could face those worries when they came, confident that their love was enough to get them through the challenges that had been thrown there way.

* * *

_ Sandor _

Sandor knew that Sansa was fed up with him. He also knew that he couldn't help it. The small guest house where they were staying, temporarily, had been a veritable revolving door of people in and out since he'd brought Sansa home. Seeing her friends and family cheered her up, but it also exhausted her. The doctors had told her that it would take time for her to recover fully, and so he hovered, like the guard dog he was, snapping and snarling at anyone who pushed her beyond her limits.

Of course, Sansa didn't think he needed to be quite so forceful in his directives to the people visiting, but she mostly indulged him, smiling at him and shaking her head.

They got word on Thursday afternoon that they could go and look at their home. The two detectives had been by to say that they had officially labelled it arson and that they'd gathered what evidence they needed.

"You can't go in, but you should go and look. If you make a list, we can uhh, well, we can see what we can collect."

The arson investigator gave them a half-smile and shrugged. "There are parts of the house that look barely touched, while others are completely gone." Sandor didn't miss the look that the guy slid Sansa's way, and he knew, he fucking knew what that meant. The fire had been meant to hurt her. Everything else had been a bonus.

"And the rest? Ramsay? Greyjoy? What the fuck is going on there."

"Active investigation," was all they'd said, making Sandor snap. He hated those words' active investigation. He wanted results. He wanted Ramsay arrested and behind bars.

Sandor made a note to put in a call to Tywin later. He was sure the Old Lion would have something by now.

Sandor had a pit in his stomach when he thought about what that fucker had done to his house. And again, how close he'd come to losing Sansa. His grip on her hand was tight as she started making a list for the police. She seemed mostly concerned about his things; his first game-worn jersey, the puck he'd kept from his first WHL goal, and other memorabilia. Perhaps in time, Sandor would give a shit about that stuff again, but right now, he was still so angry.

It wasn't that Sandor couldn't afford to either rebuild their home or buy something totally new; it was that this was the first real place that Sandor had that was wholly his, and that felt like home. And that sense of accomplishment, not to mention to sheer violation of the arson, had him grinding his teeth.

"You sure you want to do this?" he asked her quietly. They were in his SUV, sitting in the driveway of Winterfell.

"Yeah, Sandor. I do."

They were holding hands, and Sandor was trying to be careful not to crush hers in his. She seemed so delicate to him these days, and without even going to their home, he knew that this would be hard.

"We stronger than him, Sandor. We need to see it, and then we can start to work through the emotions."

They had given them the name of a therapist that dealt with things like loss and grief, and Sansa had spoken briefly with the woman today, trying to prepare herself for this moment.

"Alright. But if it's too much…" Sandor's grey eyes bore into hers. He wasn't kidding. He'd haul her out of there so fast her head would spin, and he wouldn't care what she thought.

"If it's too much, we leave. For either one of us."

Satisfied with that, Sandor honked the horn. Davos appeared and slipped inside the SUV. The man was a shadow, and most days, Sandor had no idea he was around. Unlike Brienne, he oddly enough inspired a sense of security in Sandor. Perhaps it was his age, or maybe it was the hard edge Sandor caught in the man's eyes every so often, but somehow, Sandor knew that no one would slip by Davos Seaworth. It was the only reason Sandor was able to leave Sansa at all.

The three of them were quiet as Sandor navigated the big SUV through the quiet streets. They passed a house that Dacey and Robb were keen on, and Sansa sighed.

"It would be perfect for them," she said, slight longing in her voice.

For his part, Sandor had spent considerable time on the computer, and he'd narrowed down some new options for them. Options that had more security, more privacy and more rooms. Space for them to grow as a family, hopefully, and for her empire to expand.

When they finally turned the corner, Sandor saw the cop car first, followed by the charred ruins of the upper level of their home. He'd heard about the fire, from Stannis, Brienne, Renly and Sansa, but seeing the stark reality in front of him, he felt the nauseous roll up in his stomach.

It was more than evident that she'd been targeted. The back of the house, along with the master bedroom, has sustained the worst of the damage.

"How?" Sansa asked, and Sandor glanced at her. She was pale, her eyes impossibly blue.

"An accelerant lass. We're almost certain that he had a high-level hacker mimic your security system so that we couldn't see him. Then it was easy enough to apply the accelerant, and light the fuse, as it were."

It was more than they'd gotten from the cops, even though Sandor knew that Stannis was in constant contact with them.

Sansa shook her head, brushing away the tears.

"I don't understand," she said. Sandor's heart and mind were at war. She was so good, so kind, so lovely that this wouldn't make sense to someone like her. He'd lived his entire life knowing the very worst things people could do to one another, but Sansa was a princess. She didn't deserve to have this level of hate in her life.

"Little bird," he started to say.

Her eyes flashed, and she shook her head. "No. Don't Sandor. None of this is on you. It's on Ramsay, and we all know that."

_Gods, she was magnificent_, he thought and drew her hand to his to kiss it.

The policeman guarding the crime scene, because that was what it was, waved them through when Sandor produced some ID. They sat in their driveway, both silent looking at the damage.

"We can go," Sansa eventually said. There was a finality in her voice, and Sandor looked at her.

She shook her head. "It's not home, Sandor. I'm so sorry. I loved it here, but this isn't home." It had been what Sandor had been feeling, and relief rushed through him. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to step foot inside this place again. It felt… tainted.

Davos slipped out of the SUV to give them privacy.

"I've been looking at other houses," he told her, and the distraction seemed to work. Her eyes went wide, and she let out a shaky laugh.

"Yeah?"

"Yup. Something bigger. One place has a little guest cottage. I was umm, well I was sort of thinking it might be a good place for Ric. You know, he could be on his own, but not. It also has some studio space and a whole bunch of bedrooms, pool, huge kitchen. Not that you cook," he muttered, all of sudden embarrassed.

Sansa threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, you wonderful man. I love the idea of Ric coming and being close to us, and of course, I need some studio space. This sounds lovely, Sandor."

He dug out his phone and opened the app where he'd saved some options and watched as she flipped through them, her smile growing.

"Oh my, you are a clever one, aren't you," she said, ohhh'ing and awwing at some of the different houses. It was a miracle that somehow he could make her smile when they were sitting in front of such wanton destruction.

She finally looked up and smiled at him. "A new beginning."

"Yeah, little bird. A new beginning."

With that, Sansa nodded and motioned for Davos to come back.

"Done here?"

With one last glance back at the house where their love had bloomed, Sansa nodded. Ramsay might have tried to destroy her, them, but he hadn't. They'd survived him and this and would be stronger and more dedicated to one another than ever before. Sansa gave him a look.

"Yeah, I think we're done here. We'll send a list, see what can be salvaged. But this is the past."

Sandor kissed her hand again, so fucking proud of her, his chest ached.

"To new beginnings."

"To the future. Together," Sansa said, and despite everything that had happened, Sandor couldn't fucking wait. This woman was his, and he'd do everything in his power to see her safe, happy and thriving in the North. This was their home, this wild place. It was more than brick and wood. It was their friends and family, their love and their trust in one another. They'd find a new home, build new memories and no one, and not even Ramsay Bolton could stop them.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House Hunting and some Ramsay news

* * *

[Picset ](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/614744981470674944/chapter-21-power-play)

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_ Sandor _

Sandor trailed after Sansa as she wandered from room to room in the third house that they had viewed, making little noises and writing things down in her phone.

There were on a rare break in his hockey schedule, where he had a few days between games. They'd last played a rare Monday night game, and now on Tuesday, they were house hunting. This had been going on for a week, in between hockey games and Sansa getting back to one hundred percent after the fire.

"I have to take notes," she'd told him when they'd met with their realtor to view the first house. Sandor had said nothing, watching as she'd made endless notes about all the properties they'd looked at. Sandor knew a part of it was how she was trying to take back control of her life after Ramsay had stolen that from her. It was one more thing Sandor hated about the man.

Royce had been a godsend and stepped in to do a lot of the work on MiSa while she was recovering. He was vetting candidates for her new positions and promised he'd send the final selections her way, knowing she would want to be part of the final choices. Sandor had yet to meet Royce, but the man seemed to have Sansa’s best interests at heart.

On the social media front, Sandor and Sansa had done a quick video to assure everyone they were fine and uploaded it to her YouTube account. Sandor had been uncomfortable, but he'd done it for her, and it, of course, had gone viral. The love for them had humbled him and Sweetie was officially a celebrity. He’d held her through most of the video, giving Sansa center stage.

Sansa had also posted a few photos to her IG account, helped by Arya and her girlfriends. There were quite a few of Sweetie, who was glued to Sansa's side these days, as was Davos. The only reason that Sandor had been able to leave was because of Davos, Brienne and Renly. And his dog. His hero dog.

There was still no word on Ramsay, and Sandor grew more frustrated by the day that the police hadn’t charged him with attempted murder and locked him away.

Now, as Sandor watched Sansa go through this latest house, frowning, he had no idea why they were even looking at this place. There was nothing wrong with it; in fact, the four million price tag was more than the average person could ever hope to buy.

The problem was, both he and Sansa liked the same house. It was the house that Sandor had found for them, and they agreed it was perfect.

But the little bird had said it was "too much,” and refused to even look at it.

It wasn't too much. Nothing, in Sandor's opinion, was too much for her. More, it was well within his means, to give it to her. If only she would let him.

Sandor had made sound investments over the years, and he was assured that he would get the full insurance money for his current home, and despite the ten million dollar price tag on the house called Eagle's Point, it was perfect for them. Sandor watched over the past week as Sansa had viewed the video of the home, multiple times. She'd clicked on the pictures, and he'd watched her eyes light as she went through them again and again. He knew she loved it.

It was perched on a hill overlooking the lake, a full five acres and over ten thousand square feet. There was an indoor pool, a work out room, a huge master bedroom, a massive kitchen, games room and several bedrooms. The small guest cottage on the property assured that Rickon would have a private spot to live with them, and the two well-manicured acres would guarantee that they could host parties that rivalled those at Winterfell.

Sansa loved it but refused to schedule an appointment to view it.

"Sandor, it's too much," she said, sighing and closing her browser, before snuggling in his arms. He thought she was crazy, but he’d gone along with her way.

Now Sandor was trudging through yet another house that 'wasn't quite right.'

Sandor waited until the realtor was locking up the front door before he turned the man. All three of them knew this wasn't the house. None of the houses they looked at were the right one.

"We'll see Eagle's Point next," he told the man.

Sansa gasped. He turned to her and arched an eyebrow. He was done looking at houses that they didn't love when their perfect home was just waiting for them.

"Sansa, you look at it all the time. We both love it. It's private, huge and meets all our needs."

"It's too much," she whispered as he tugged her closer. She might be a Stark, northern royalty, but she was humble, even with her fame and success.

"Baby, it's not. I can afford it."

Her blue eyes flew up to his. "We can afford it." He knew he had her then, but didn’t like the idea of her spending her money.

He opened his mouth to protest, and she kissed him. "Nope. That's my deal. If I say yes to see it, you have to let me contribute. This is my house as well. Our house, Sandor."

He held her gaze. He was old fashioned in some ways. He thought it was the man's job to provide for his woman. But, he wasn't a complete moron. He knew how much pride she had in her business and the money she earned. And she was stubborn as fuck. She had a glint in her eyes and he knew he wouldn’t win this battle. Sansa Stark owned him. He might be the best d man on the ice, but in life, this woman had all the power.

"Alright, little bird, let's take a look at it,” he grumbled, wondering if he could somehow talk her out of paying for half of it.

She squealed happily and launched herself into his arms.

Sandor was kissing her when the realtor interrupted them with a cough.

"So, we can go now?" The man was eager to show them the second most prominent house in the North after Winterfell.

All three of them piled into Sandor's SUV and the realtor and Sansa chatted happily as Sandor wound his way from their current subdivision and up the hill to where Eagle's Point was located, high on a hill, overlooking the lake.

It was all wood, windows and stone, and Sansa was almost bouncing in her seat as they pulled up to the impressive façade.

Sandor knew in his guts this was it; this was their forever home. It was stunning, a truly incredible private residence, and each room seemed more remarkable than the previous one – at least in the pictures. Sandor parked the Mercedes underneath the huge wooden archway and took Sansa's hand as the realtor opened the door. The house came fully furnished so they were viewing it as it might look should they make an offer.

Sansa was squeezing his hand so hard as they walked inside. The first thing Sandor noticed was the floor to ceiling windows that had a spectacular view of the mountains. The living room, great room, dining room and kitchen dominated the space, and even though she could barely boil water, Sansa gushed over the well-appointed area and chattered endlessly about the parties they could have.

The fall sunshine illuminated the space, so the warm wooden accents made the vast space feel welcoming, and the fireplace reminded them that they were in the North. There was a huge half horseshoe island that overlooked the kitchen space, and a table that comfortably sat eight.

All of that opened onto the top terrace that overlooked the lake below, with patio furniture and a covered space that meant it could be used year round.

There was a library, with a fully appointed bar, another fireplace, and then a stairway that led downstairs. It was a room Sandor could see himself relaxing in on a cold winter’s night after a game.

"We'll stay on the main floor for now," the realtor said.

Down a long hallway, there was a study, along with another stone fireplace. They were everywhere, Sandor though. Fucking fire, but Sansa seemed to love them. And it was the North. It got really fucking cold up here.

"This is perfect for my home office," Sansa gushed.

Sandor smiled at her, as they followed the curving hallway, again with floor to ceiling windows that made it feel like the forest was almost inside their home. Because Sandor knew this was their home.

At the end of the hallway, they came to the master bedroom.

Wooden beams ran the length of the enormous bedroom, and yet another fireplace and its terrace with specular views. Sansa spent time going over every single part of the space, speaking rapidly about mornings spent together here. Sandor could already see it. He loved how the terrace was covered, and how much bigger than the one they currently had and knew they could be out here in all weather conditions.

The bathroom was more luxurious than anything Sandor had ever seen, and he loved how the place was both masculine but with the high end finishes that Sansa clearly loved.

"It's the perfect blend of the two of us," she told him, and he couldn't agree more. He didn't feel dainty in the house, which he loved, and there was enough light not to make it feel oppressive. At the same time, no expense had been spared, and he could tell Sansa loved it.

"It's a great house, little bird."

"It is." She beamed at him.

They viewed the other four bedrooms on the main floor, many of them having the unique curved walls with those distinctive windows.

“It’s the perfect layout for children,” she whispered to him, eyes full of longing. Christ he wanted to have babies with this woman.

When they finally went downstairs, there was a great room with a huge couch and a massive television, another bar, and a fireplace. Of course, there was a separate media room with theatre seating. There was also a pool table and a card table, a gym and a bedroom downstairs that Sansa said she could easily turn into her makeup and taping room for her YouTube videos.

"Outside, pool or the guest cottage?" their realtor asked.

"Pool!" they said at the same time, and even Sandor grunted as they entered the incredible indoor space. It was all white marble, recessed lighting and shimmering blue water. There were change rooms, a detached hot tub, a sauna and enough space for four large lounge chairs.

"Sandor," Sansa whispered, and he drew her closer. "This is wild," she said, and he thought she was the most adorable thing in the world. She might well be one of the wealthiest women in Westeros one day, and yet, she remained, as always, delightfully humble.

"It is. I can see us here, Sansa." His words were truthful. This was their forever home.

"Me too."

Their realtor guided them outside, where they saw the different decks, with the two outdoor fireplaces, plenty of outdoor living space and a well-manicured lawn. It was private, so they couldn't see their neighbour and had a state of the art security system.

The guest house was set slightly off the main property, had two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a living room and a games room.

"Oh gods, Rickon will love it," Sansa cried, and Sandor knew it. This was the home for them.

Sandor gave the man a look, and he left them in the privacy of the guest house.

Sansa was almost shaking, and Sandor had no idea if it was excitement, nerves or fear. Or some combination of all three.

"Talk to me, baby," Sandor whispered gruffly in her ear.

"I love it, Sandor. I love it so much," she said. "But, tell me honestly. Do you love it as much as I do?"

He carded his hands through her hair and looked into her eyes. "Baby, this is it. This is our home. This is our forever, our new start."

"It is. Oh gods, it so is."

He held her close and just drank at the moment. Soon enough, they'd have to negotiate and do the paperwork, but for now, this was enough. They had found their home, and this was where their new forever started.

* * *

The day after they'd viewed the Eagle Point home, Cat, Ned and Ric were back with them to see the property. Sandor knew this was how family, how _Starks_ did things and Sansa had both Mama B and Addam on Facetime, showing them the property.

Cat gushed over the property, Ned kept clapping him on the back, and when Sandor and Sansa took Ric aside and showed him the guest house, for once, the rookie was silent.

"What's this?"

Sansa had a massive smile on her face.

"It's a guest cottage."

"Cute, San." Rickon shrugged, and Sandor settled his big hand on Rickon's shoulder.

"Your guest cottage."

"What??" His eyes had gone wide as he turned back to look at Sansa and Sandor. "What do you mean?"

Cat and Ned were hugging each other, and Ned was holding the phone to share the moment with Mama B and Addam.

"We mean, if they accept our offer, we'd like you to come and live with us. Well, not with us. Here. It would be your place, but close to us."

Sandor watched as Rickon struggled to keep his emotions under control. His eyes were bright, and he swiped at his nose.

"Are you serious?" He was looking between Sansa and Sandor.

"Yeah, we are."

"San?"

She was bouncing. "Yup! I'm so excited, Ric. It's perfect, and I'd love to have you close."

"Guys," Rickon said, the tears finally spilling over. Sandor drew him into his arms, hugging him.

"Family, Ric. You're family."

His body was shaking as the three of them hugged, and then Ned and Cat were there, and it was all of them in each other's arms as they piled into Ric's new little home. The rookie rebounded from his tears and was talking a mile a minute about where he would put everything. The four adults just smiled at him, and his enthusiasm and Cat hugged Sandor hard.

"You are such a good man, Sandor. Such a good man."

He blushed but felt pride surge through him. It meant something that Sansa’s Mom liked him so much.

That afternoon, they met with their lawyer and put their offer in. It was accepted, and they were told it would be theirs, fully furnished as it, within two weeks.

To celebrate, and before the team left for games in the Riverlands and the Reach, Cat and Ned had all their friends and family over to Winterfell. Ned had the dinner catered, so all anyone had to do was show up.

Sansa and Sandor strolled to the main house, hand in hand. Ric had popped by to grab Sweetie earlier, still vibrating with excitement that he was going to live with them. Before they got to the door, Sandor drew her into his arms, swaying slightly.

"Still remember the first time I was invited here," he told her, voice gruff.

"Yeah?"

He nodded.

"Yeah. I thought you were so smoking hot, little bird."

She giggled.

"I'd spent the day complaining to my mother about never finding a good man."

Sandor grunted and kissed her.

"And I admit, I was attached to you. Before you were a jerk. I liked how big you were. I liked the tats.”

He smirked.

"Of course, I was still dating Harry."

Sandor growled as Sansa traced her hands over the muscles on his chest.

"It wasn't like that. You know that. And I couldn't believe my Dad invited you here. To Winterfell. It was quite an honour, Sandor."

"I know. I was so nervous. Then I saw you in that fucking red bikini little bird, and I just came right there."

She rolled her eyes, but Sandor could tell she was pleased with his reaction to her.

He traced a finger down her face. "Never thought a woman like you would ever look at a man like me, Sansa. Your Dad gave me this tour of Winterfell, and I couldn't help but wish that some part of this was mine."

"Awwww."

Sandor shook his head. "It's true. I loved the North first, Sansa. Loved being up here, playing for your Dad. It was that afternoon when he offered to help me look for a house – took me right over to the place he had in mind. And then we talked about me being captain. He just needed to see me commit the North. Never knew what else would come with that. Never knew I'd get you out of it."

"Sandor," she sighed happily, wrapping her arms around his neck, going up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

"Then I watched you, in the fucking pool, and I wanted to smash Greyjoy in the fucking face when he picked you up." Sandor sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face, scratching at his beard.

"Then I met your mom, and she was so kind, Sansa. I never knew anyone other than Mama B to be that kind to me. We talked about my mom that afternoon."

"Oh gods, Sandor. I didn't know."

He nodded, his throat thick with emotion.

"She loves you so much, Sansa. She's so proud of you, sees how good you are, how kind and smart you are. I didn't know what to think. I was stunned by you and overwhelmed and had no idea what you thought of me. Then you sat down next to me, held out your hand and introduced yourself."

"Baby, I love this is where our story started," Sansa said, eyes misty.

"Little chirping bird. Think I fell for you right then. You offered to be my friend, and I wanted to punch your boyfriend in the face."

"Harry was a jerk, Sandor."

He grunted his agreement on that. Harry was a dickhead.

"Then you told me if I was a jerk to you, you'd get your Dad to run a puke practice. Gods, you were so hot."

She winked at him and laughed. "Liked that, huh."

"Oh yeah, babe. Love it. Love you."

"I love you, Sandor."

"Now we get this new chapter and Sansa, I promise you, I'm all in baby. I knew it's been fast, but I'm so happy."

"Me too."

"I want this shit with Ramsay to be over, little bird. I want you to be safe. You're everything, Sansa."

"I know, baby. I know. Soon hopefully."

Sandor dropped his lips to her, kissing her deeply, pouring all his love into the kiss. He needed a ring and soon. Three weeks and he'd be in Lannisport, and he'd find the best ring possible. And hopefully, this would all be behind them, with Ramsay in custody and the rest of the lives before them.

* * *

_ Sansa _

_This man_, Sansa thought as they walked into her parent's home, hand in hand, both sporting matching grins. He might look big and tough, but underneath the muscles and the tats, Sandor Clegane had a heart of gold.

It has been just under two months since she'd come home, and she had gained so much since she'd decided to be there for her mother. Her relationship with Harry seemed like a bad, distant memory, one that she couldn't believe she'd settled for now that she had someone like Sandor in her life.

Things had moved fast with them, once they'd gotten over their initial misunderstanding of one another, and she was so happy that they'd taken a chance on each other. This was a man that loved deep and well and who would protect her, who loved her intelligence as much as her body and her beauty.

She knew he'd been reluctant to let her pay for their new home, but Sansa had been adamant. It was theirs and she wanted this relationship to be one of equals. Because she knew as much as Sandor gave her, she was there for him. Then she let him go, as her family swarmed him. Gods, how could he not see he was one of them already?

Robb pulled him in for a hug, thick as thieves these days, joking that they'd bought a house and adopted a kid all in the same day.

Rickon protested, but Sansa saw him beam. Her little brother was so happy with their offer, and he looked at Sandor with hero-worship in his eyes. Sandor pulled Rickon in for a hug, so there was Robb, Rickon, Jon and Sandor all laughing it up. Not to be outdone, Gendry and Arya entered behind Sandor and Gendry moved towards the guys.

"Men," Arya said, shaking her head at them. "Nice house, San. Very lady of the manor, looking down on all of us peasants."

Years ago, Sansa would have bristled under the barb, but she knew it was just Arya's humour.

"You bet," she said, bumping shoulders with her sister.

"Seriously, though, super cool what you guys are doing for Ric. He's gonna love it, San."

Sansa wrapped her arms around Arya and hugged her close.

"Family, right?"

"Fucking eh, family. Like all those losers," Arya said, affection in her voice as they stared at their guys.

Wyn and Dacey were helping Cat with the table, and Sansa and Arya hurried to help. Robb and Dacey were equally excited about their new home, although now they were further away from Sansa and Sandor. Everyone knew, though, that with Ramsay still free, Sandor would take no chances with Sansa's safety. Besides, the idea of Robb and Rickon living together again made everyone shudder.

Sansa sipped her wine, resting her hand on Sandor's massive thigh as talk turned, of course, to the Wolves. Jon had his arm around Wyn, who kept stealing glances at him, while Robb was holding Dacey's hand in between bites of food. None of the women minded the talk of strategy and the upcoming games, knowing it was a way to deflect attention from the questions about the fire.

Sansa was just about to call for dessert when her phone chimed. She glanced down and frowned, seeing the detective's number on the screen.

"Ms. Stark, we have some information for you."

Her heart raced as her entire family looked on.

"We're at Winterfell, detective. My whole family."

"Mr. Clegane is there with you?"

"Yes."

"Half an hour Ms. Stark." His tone was cold. Then he added, "You'll want to hear this, I promise. This nightmare is almost over."

Sansa sagged in relief, having held the phone so Sandor could hear as well. When she ended the call, Cat clapped her hands, and the family flew into action to tidy up. Ned opened the door to let the two men in, leading them to the family room where everyone was gathered.

Sansa rose and smoothed her hands on her cream coloured pants. When the police looked around the room, she shook her head.

"They're family," was all she said, and that was that.

The detective cleared his throat and looked at Sandor and Sansa.

"We've arrested Ramsay Bolton tonight, on charges of extortion, dogfighting, illegal gambling, blackmail, arson and attempted murder."

There was silence in the room.

"About fucking time," Sandor finally growled, hugging Sansa to his side.

"Also, his father Roose has been arrested, along with his co-conspirators, Walder Frey and his sons. There isn't much we can tell you about that investigation. Some of it ties into what happened with you, Ms. Stark and Mr. Clegane, but there are feds involved now."

"How did Ramsay… why did he?" Sansa couldn't even get the words out. Her mind was spinning.

"He hired someone, Ms. Stark. He's highly intelligent, and with the information Mr. Greyjoy gave him, he hacked your security system, allowing the man he paid to light the fire. He targeted you. We've found his computers, and while he's smart, he also has an ego. And an overinflated sense of his own security. The idiot didn't even have the chance to erase anything."

"And Theon?" Robb asked, suddenly surging to his feet. His fists were balled at his side.

The two police officers looked at one another.

"Mr. Greyjoy cooperated fully. It turned out that Ramsay befriended him when he was first on the team. A weekend away at the Dreadfort, and Theon was in over his head. Massive debt and no way to pay. Instead of either coming clean, or asking his Dad for help, Theon begged Ramsay not to tell his coach."

The detective looked at Ned. Then he shook his head.

"Next time they were there, Ramsay took Theon to this underground dogfighting ring he had going. He ran the whole thing. Awful stuff," the man said, looking ill.

Sandor growled, and Sansa thought of Sweetie.

"My dog?"

The man nodded. "Yeah, she was one of his. A bait dog. Tied her up, let other dogs tear into her. I don’t even know how she’s still alive. He often let the dogs go at the weak ones until they were dead. There are videos and pictures, but honestly, you don't want to fucking see. Trust me on that."

Sansa let out a pained cry, and Sweetie whimpered, pressing closer to their legs.

"You're safe, girl," Sandor said, both he and Sansa kneeling to stroke her soft ears, feeling the welts and scars that would never fully heal, speaking of a horrid life she'd had until she'd found them.

"How did Theon come to be involved?" Jon asked, joining Robb. "He's made bad choices, but he never seemed to be into any of that. Could hardly watch a show where an animal died." It was true; all the Starks knew it. They'd teased him about it for years.

The detective sighed. "Ramsay's smart, I'll give him that. He told Theon he could win back big money at this illegal poker game. Except it wasn't a poker game but dog fighting. Ramsay set him up. Took a bunch of pictures of Theon there and made it seem like he was participating. Then he blackmailed him – told him he’d go to the press, his coach, his dad if he didn’t pay them back, or if he went to the cops. Theon's been paying the Bolton's back, with huge interest, but he could never get ahead. When things erupted between Clegane and Bolton, that's when Ramsay asked for favours from Theon. Where Ms. Stark was, her routine, her new home, and he couldn't say no."

"Course he fucking could have," Sandor snarled, and Sansa let him rage. He had every right to it. "He could have told that cunt to fuck off. Instead, he sold her out."

The detective nodded. "I understand your anger, Mr. Clegane. I do. Theon has been charged with aiding and abetting. Because his actions almost lead to Ms. Stark's death, the prosecutor will decide if he's up on attempted manslaughter charges."

The Starks all sucked in a collective breath, unable to believe it.

"Good." That was from Sandor. Sansa could see he had no sympathy for Theon or his choices. She had no idea what she was feeling, only that it all seemed unreal.

"Ramsay Bolton is a psychopath, Mr. Clegane. I don't begrudge you your anger, but he played Theon Greyjoy."

Before Sandor could say anything, the detective held up his hand. "That isn't an excuse. He was relentless. Picture after picture, threat after threat. Yes, he should have come clean, a long time ago. He didn't. And he'll pay the price for his mistakes. He takes full responsibility just so that you know."

Sansa could see that Sandor was close to snapping, and she laid a hand on his chest.

"Baby, come with me," she said, taking his hand.

Thankfully, he followed her out into her parents' back yard, where he stalked through the night, fury pouring off him. In the cold, crisp fall air, Sansa finally felt like she could breathe. She took one deep breath, and then another until she felt calmer and more in control. By that time, Sandor had cooled off slightly.

"I don't have any sympathy for him, Sansa. His actions almost lead to your death. You don't know what it was like, getting that call."

"I'm not asking you to have sympathy for him. Your anger is perfectly reasonable, Sandor."

His eyes narrowed as if he was trying to see if she were placating him. She was not, and his shoulders relaxed. Sensing an opportunity, Sansa approached him, wrapping her arms around him and just holding him close. It took a moment, but she was suddenly enveloped in his strong embrace.

"I want to kill them both."

"I know."

Silence.

"You're not mad that I'm angry at Greyjoy?"

"I'm angry too, Sandor. I'm angry he made a bad choice to gamble in the first place. I'm angry he didn't come to us; to Robb or my Dad. I'm angry he didn't report the dogfighting. I'm pissed he gave Ramsay that information on me. And I'm sad. Sad that his entire life, things he worked so hard for are now gone, because he made stupid choices. I'm not condoning his actions at all. But I have you, and I'm safe, and we have this great life to look forward to. And he has nothing."

Sandor grunted.

"I'm not fucking there yet, Sansa."

She titled her head to look into his eyes. "I don't expect you to be. But Ramsay is behind bars, and it sounds like his entire family and world is crumbling. I suspect that our problems with him are all but over, Sandor. And that's what I want to focus on us."

They were quiet for a time, wrapped up in each other.

"I'm so angry, Sansa."

"I know, baby. I know."

He heaved out a huge sigh.

"But I don't want just to be angry."

She smiled into his chest. There was her guy. Her amazing, awesome guy.

"I know."

More silence.

"Fucking assholes about the dogfighting."

Sansa's stomach twisted. She almost felt sick. "I can't see what they did to her Sandor. I can't know. She is here, with us. She's my hero. I can't… see that. I can't even think about it," Sansa said, starting to shake.

"Hush little bird," Sandor said, rubbing her back. "You won't. Don't think about it now. She's safe, and the authorities shut him down."

"What if there are more dogs?" she whispered, horrified. "More like her, Sandor?" She was gazing at him now, and his jaw clenched.

"Good thing, we bought a place with five acres. We'll take as many as we can, Sansa. We'll figure it out."

She shuddered. "He's a monster, Sandor. A true monster."

"He is, baby. But he's caught now, and he can't get us, can't harm anyone or anything anymore."

Eventually, they made their way back inside. Given the gravity of his crimes and his likelihood to re-offend, Ramsay was being held without bail. The Starks appeared almost defeated, thinking about how Theon had hurt them, and Sansa ached for her family. This betrayal would take a long time to heal from.

Sandor told the detective their concerns about the other dogs, and the man's grim face got even darker as he shook his head.

"We had to euthanize them all. They were… well, the ones that were alive were too viscous and the few that were bait dogs, like Sweetie…" he let his sentence trail off, and Sansa felt the tears well up, as she dropped to her knees and rocked her dog in her arms, mourning the innocent animals that Ramsay has used for his twisted pleasure.

"I'm sorry," he said. He spoke some more about trial dates and other things, but Sansa didn't hear any of it. She was numb, wondering about such a world and the cruelty in it. Eventually, Sandor pulled her up from the floor and took her and Sweetie home, where she sobbed in his arms.

To his credit, he simply held her as it all poured out, never trying to lessen what she felt, or the horror of it all. He'd left a lamp on, so they weren't in the dark, and she loved him for that.

When she felt there were no more tears, she clung to him, and he finally spoke.

"We'll make a difference, little bird. Find some shelters that need our help, no matter where they are in Westeros. Make sure that dogs have a good life. Make sure people are taking proper care of them."

"Yes," she said, knowing he got it.

"And children, Sandor. Boys and girls in homes that aren't good. We'll make a difference there, as well."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "We will. We'll do all we can for those with no voice, Sansa."

It was a promise she knew this man she loved would keep. Despite what had been done to him in his life, he was good; he was a warrior and a protector of the innocent. He was everything she wanted, and she loved him so much her heart felt full to bursting.

She rose up and slid over the top of him, cupping his face in her hands.

"You're mine, Sandor. I love you, so very, very much."

His grey eyes went smoky as he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"I wanted a ring. A perfect fucking ring for you Sansa. To prove to everyone how much you mean to me. But I can't wait any longer. I need the words, little bird. I need to know that you're mine; that you'll always be mine. Marry me Sansa. Be my wife. Be my heart, my lover, the mother of my children. I promise you, no one will ever fucking love you as much as I do."

Her heart felt like it might explode out of her chest.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

She laughed and kissed him hard. "Yes, I'll be your wife. Yes, I'll be your lover. Yes, I'll be the mother of your children. I want babies, Sandor. Lots and lots of babies."

"Fuck, woman, I love you," he said, his lips slamming across hers.

Sansa arched into the kiss, desire suddenly racing through her veins. She needed this man, this rough, strong man. Sandor had been so cautious with her since the fire, but with the threat to them gone, they needed this. Both of them.

Sansa dragged her hand down to squeeze him hard, was rewarded with a growl.

"Are you sure?" he said. She could hear the strain, the need that matched hers.

"Oh yeah, Sandor."

Without another word, he had her naked, and she giggled as he drank in his fill of her.

"Fuck, baby, so beautiful. All mine," he was muttering, cupping her breasts, taking a nipple in his mouth, loving her. He was relentless, working his way down her body, kissing her slim stomach.

"Soon, little bird. I want to see you ripe with my fucking seed, Sansa."

She felt her body respond to his words, her pussy clenching in need as it was empty, wet and ready for him. Always and forever now him.

"Sandor, please."

"Like it when you beg."

Sansa pouted.

He grinned then and put his hands on her thighs. "Spread your legs, baby. Let me a feast."

Gah! Her brain turned to mush when he said things like that. And the best part was, Sansa knew he loved to do this to her. She gladly parted her thighs and watched his eyes got darker. Right before his tongue swiped through her folds, he looked at her.

"Mine, Sansa."

She nodded. "Yours baby. Now make me come."

Sansa was proud how she only blushed a little at her demand and watched as her fiancé growled and went to work, his tongue working its way deep inside her, teeth nibbling at her clit, his fingers opening her up. In no time, he had her screaming and barely coming down from that high when Sandor rose up and slammed insider her, so big and thick that her oversensitive flesh clamped down on him.

"Fucking hells, what you feel like," he muttered, eyes all but rolled back in ecstasy. It did something to Sansa to know she could make him feel like this, and she turned her hips, dragging him deeper and rocking with him as he pulled himself back out and then slammed down on her again.

"Can't fucking hold back. Feel too good," he grunted.

"Take me," she demanded, matching his thrusts, digging her nails into his impressive shoulders, anchoring him to her.

"Don't wanna be too rough," he managed to say, sweat now beading on his neck, his cock relentless as it pistoled in and out of her, again and again. The orgasm was building, and she could feel it, and the last thing Sansa needed was for him to stop.

"Sandor, I can take it."

Their eyes locked.

"Sandor, please. You feel so good, and I can feel myself, feel you… I'm so close. Don't stop."

"Fuck," he groaned and grabbed her hips, swivelling them slightly and then simply pounded away at her, taking them to a place they'd never been, driving away anything that wasn't them, wasn't this all-consuming need that was rising up between them. Sansa held on to him, never having seen him this close to the edge, never felt that his control had ever been this close to snapping.

She leaned up and sucked on his ear and then trailed her lips down his neck. "You feel so good. So big, so hard. Gods, Sandor, I can't…." she moaned, and his pace somehow increased until the room was awash with the sounds of their flesh meeting.

The orgasm was so vast, that when it burst over Sansa, she wailed out his name, convulsing on him and drawing him deeper inside, hardly aware of when he clutched and went taunt and then emptied rope after rope of semen inside her, so much that she felt it leaking out as he barely held himself up, always careful not to hurt her.

He rolled them later, both a mess and held her as they panted together in the aftermath, his big hands on her back.

"Good?" he asked, kissing her softly now, the keen edge gone, but the glow remained.

"So good."

Sansa was in her happy post-orgasmic glow when Sandor spoke again.

"I'm sorry I botched the proposal, little bird. I wanted it to be perfect. Been thinking about it for weeks now. Then I just blurted it out."

Sansa frowned, wondering how on earth he didn't realize it was perfect. She found some energy, and sat up, waiting until he looked at her.

"Sandor, it was perfect, because it was honest; heartfelt. And nothing we've done had been traditional if you think about it. I moved in, and we'd barely been dating. Hell, we've only known each other for two months."

He frowned and Sansa knew he didn't get what she was saying. She cupped his face until he looked at her.

"Sandor, we're meant to be. From that first moment, I felt something for you. Something so big I had no idea what it was, but I knew, somehow, that you were meant to be in my life. If it makes you feel better, you can get the ring and take me out to a fancy restaurant and even get down on one knee. And ask me again. I'll say yes, Sandor. I'm always going to say yes."

He twirled a lock of her red hair. "I might, you know. Do it proper, so we have the memory, so we can tell our kids, Sansa. But this was perfect too. This was just for us."

She nodded.

He pulled her down for a gentle kiss. "Let me get the ring, little bird. I need to see it on your finger. Then we can tell everyone."

He melted her; melted her entire heart for this man. "We can do that."

Seeing that he was satisfied with that, she pulled him from the bed. "Come on, future husband of mine. You made me messy. Now it's time to clean me up."

His eyes lit, and he wiggled an eyebrow and cupped her pussy. "Hmmm, yup. Definitely messy." The two of them had come long and hard, and she'd have to change the sheets before they went back to bed.

Sansa blushed, but arched into his touch and moaned. She loved how nothing seemed to faze him when it came to sex.

"Christ woman, you kill me," he said, hauling her from the bed and towards the shower, smacking her butt lightly as he had her over her shoulder.

"Sandor!" she giggled, happiness flooding through her body at everything that had happened.

They committed; to each other, to a house, to a lifetime together. Family, babies, careers - they were all in.

And the best part? Their tormentor was gone, locked up and in more trouble than either had ever imagined. Now, they could look to their future, and genuinely start to plan their life together, both of them thinking they were the luckiest person in Westeros to have found the other, and knowing that things were finally looking up.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor makes plans and they travel to King's Landing for work

* * *

_ Sandor _

As Sandor woke up, he tried to stretch and was quickly stopped by a disgruntled snort. He grinned, looking down to see Sansa wrapped around him like a vine as if he were her own personal cuddly teddy bear. Which, he supposed he was, he thought as he scratched his beard. He reached for his phone, seeing that it was early, just past 6 am and then glanced outside.

White.

He grinned.

So, winter had finally come to the North.

Excited for the day, he knew he'd have to try to extract himself from Sansa carefully. He had shit to do today before they, and not just the team, but Sansa herself, left for their games this afternoon in King's Landing. She was coming with him, and he was excited to have her on the trip.

First, he wanted to speak with Ned and Cat and let them know that he'd asked Sansa to marry him. He needed Ned's help for the public proposal he had planned, and he was going to see if Cat might lend him some suggestions on a ring. He had good taste, but this was the ring that Sansa would wear for the rest of her life, gods willing, and he wanted, no he needed, it to be perfect.

He knew Sweetie would need a walk. She was staying with Cat at Winterfell for the weekend, and though she was good for Cat, Sandor wanted her exercised.

And he knew he had to phone his parents and let them know what Sansa had said to his hasty proposal.

He glanced down at the red hair that was splayed across his muscled chest. His woman was lots of things, but an early riser was not one of them.

"Sandor," she grumbled, as he moved, burrowing deeper into the covers. She looked adorable, and for a minute, he debated staying; he had some very pleasurable ways to wake her up.

But he also had stuff to do, so he reluctantly dropped a kiss to her head.

Her blue eyes popped open.

"Where are you going?"

"Taking Sweetie out, so she's good for your Mom. I'll be back."

The smile that lit her face was everything.

"We are really engaged, right?"

His heart warmed. Fuck, he was a sucker for this woman.

"Yeah, little bird. Not getting rid of me now."

"Good, 'cause you're mine, Sandor. Now let me get some more sleep."

She pulled the covers over her head and was snoring again by the time he exited the bathroom. He appreciated that Sansa's parents had let them stay here, but he was anxiously awaiting the day when they could move into their new home. It would be chaos since they got possession on the first day of December, with both their busy schedules, but so worth it in the end.

The little bird had already talked his ear off about how she wanted to decorate and maybe host some of the dinners and important holiday events at their house to relieve the pressure from her Mom over the holiday season. Plus, hockey didn't stop for Christmas. They had a game on the 23rd and then another one of the 27th, so it was a short break.

Still, as Sandor hooked the leash onto his dog, he realized he didn't mind the chaos that his life had become. Sansa had invited Brenda and Addam to come and spend Christmas with them, and he'd been told that she was moving forward with all her company relocation shit in the New Year. Now, they'd added their engagement on top of everything else.

He settled into an easy run. The cold, crisp northern air was burning his lungs, but in a way he liked. Knowing he'd best tell Mama B about asking Sansa to be his wife, he dialled her as he was entering mile two of his run.

"Sandy!" she exclaimed warmly as if he hadn't just spoken with her a few days ago.

"Mama," he said, trying it out of the first time without the B. He knew she heard it, for she gave a little sniff.

"Dad around?"

"Right here, hun. You're on the speakerphone."

"Hi son," came Addam's deep voice, and Sandor wiped at his eyes. Fuck, would he ever get used to these people loving him as they did?

"Got some news for you guys. Good or bad, first?"

Mama huffed again. Sandor knew she hated bad news.

"It's not bad news, Mama. More like, the good news about a bad situation."

"Well, start there."

Through mile two and into mile three, Sandor told his parents about Ramsay, Theon, the dogfighting ring. All of it. They listened, asked the right questions. Of course, Mama said she felt for that "poor Greyjoy boy."

Personally, Sandor still had some big issues when it came to Theon and the bullshit he'd put Sansa and the Starks through. But his Mama always believed in second chances and forgiveness, so Sandor understood where she was coming from. She cried when Sandor told her about Sweetie and the other dogs, and then cheered when he mentioned that everyone involved with the Boltons was locked up for now.

"So what's the good news?" she said, an eagerness to his voice.

Sandor grinned as he huffed through mile four. He glanced down at his dog, who had the biggest grin on her face.

"I asked Sansa to marry me. And she said yes."

There was silence, and then an ear-piercing squeal of happiness that Sandor swore those still sleeping could probably hear.

"Good lord, woman," Addam muttered, but Sandor could tell he was pleased.

"I need to tell Cat and Ned, and it's not public. But I want to make a big deal of it, at a hockey game in a few weeks. I was hoping you'd be able to come up to be here for that."

More enthusiastic yesses from his parents and a promise that they'd be there for Christmas, and Sandor finally spotted Winterfell at the end of his run. He told his parents that he'd be in touch and hung up, wondering if he should shower before he went to talk to the Starks.

Of course, Ned spotted him and waved him in, so Sandor stepped into Winterfell with slight hesitation.

He was in great shape, but a 5-mile run this early in the morning didn't exactly have him smelling fresh.

It seemed Cat and Ned didn't care as they guided him into their vast kitchen. Cat was sipping tea and looked happier and more relaxed than Sandor had previously seen her. Come to think about it, so did Coach.

They must have been more worried about Ramsay than they'd let on, and now with him locked up, they appeared happier.

He took a seat and thanked Ned as he got him a cup of coffee. Sandor knew he was stalling, but these were Sansa's parents. No matter what, she was, in his mind, a princess. She'd always be too good for a dog like him, even if everyone seemed to like and accept him in her life.

Of course, it was Cat that reached over and squeezed his hand. She had a mischievous smile on her face, and Sandor relaxed.

"I find it's best if you just come right out and say it," she told him gently.

He shook his head and gave her a small smile. Gods, he loved Sansa's Mom.

"I asked Sansa to marry me last night. She uh… she said yes."

It took a moment, and then Catelyn Stark was hugging him, tears pouring down her face.

"Oh my goodness, this makes me so happy," she exclaimed as he held her gently. She felt frail in his massive arms, and he wanted to be careful with her.

When she was seated again, Sandor looked to Ned. The man's expression was unreadable until a huge grin broke out on his face, and he too hugged Sandor.

"Welcome to the family."

"It's not public. I don't have a ring." He scrubbed at the back of his neck. "I was… well uh… I was kind of hoping you'd help me." He was looking at Cat, and she appeared stunned.

"Me?"

Sandor grinned. "Well, yeah. You're her mom, and you'd know better than anyone what she'd like. I can't go today, or this weekend, cause of the games but next week?"

"You want me to help you pick out the ring for my daughter?" Sandor frowned, wondering if he'd miscalculated. Wasn't this what people did? He knew that Cat would have way better taste than Tormund, Bronn or Robb.

"Yeah, I do."

Tears, bit fat ones spilled over as Catelyn shook.

Sandor shot a worried glance to Ned, thinking he'd broken Sansa's mom.

"Uhmmmmm…."

"It's ok, Sandor," Ned said, voice thick. "It's very, very ok."

Suddenly, Cat was cupping his cheek. "Oh, you are the best man, aren't you. I would be honoured, Sandor. Honoured."

He, too, was choked up. Sandor knew that cancer was a shitty disease; you never really knew how much time you might have, even if your prognosis was good.

Relieved, he'd made the right choice, and he dug into the eggs and bacon that Ned slid in front of him.

"There's one more thing," he said, looking at his coach.

Ned cocked an eyebrow.

"I need to do something big for the proposal. So I was thinking about asking her at a game."

Ned and Cat exchanged glances, saying nothing.

"Not before the game, in the tunnel or any of that shit, but before it starts. Before the anthems and the puck drop."

Ned eyed him up, and Sandor couldn't get a read on the man's thoughts.

"You want to ask my daughter to marry you in front of twenty thousand Wolves' fans and on national television?"

Sandor swallowed hard and thought about it once more. Then he nodded, a grin spreading across his face. He was all in. This was the big, grand gesture. He didn't give a fuck if that made him seem like some whipped dog; he was. He was Sansa's. And he knew she'd love it. And that was all that mattered to him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. I want everyone to know that she's mine and that I'm hers. That we're together. She's worth it, and it'd be a huge kick for her career."

Ned clapped him on the back, shaking his head.

"We can make that work, Sandor. Robb is going to have his work cut out to keep up with you. All those boys are."

Relief coursed through Sandor's body as Cat chatted happily about rings and the wedding, and Sandor just let it wash over him.

When he finally headed home, promising he'd drop Sweetie off later as the plane was leaving at noon, he was feeling like every one of his ten million dollars. He found Sansa chatting with Royce, setting up a meeting and packing their clothing for the weekend.

That stopped him in his tracks. He'd never had anyone do that for him. Sandor vaguely heard her hang up and promise that they'd see him tomorrow. They were meeting with Dany and her husband before the game, and Yohn was meeting with Sansa at the hotel on Saturday.

When she was off her call, Sandor pulled Sansa into his arms, nuzzling at her neck.

"Hey, little bird," he rumbled into her ear.

She giggled, and his cock went rock hard.

"You're sweaty. And you taste like food."

"Stopped by Winterfell. I talked to your parents. I hope that was ok."

Her smiled said it was. Then she reached down and stroked him, and his eyes just about rolled to the back of his head.

"Time to get clean?" she said with a flirty wink, tossing her top over her shoulder and giggling as she ran towards the bathroom.

"Fucking hells, life is good," Sandor said to himself, stripping down and joining her.

He had his woman.

He had his dog.

He had his dream house.

He was exactly where he wanted to be in; in the North, with Sansa by his side.

* * *

Typically, any wife or girlfriend, family, kids, that sort of thing who was coming to watch the games travelled separately from the team. There were several reasons for this, and a lot of it had to do with distraction – keeping the team focused.

While regular people might oooh and ahh about a private jet, and the special treatment the team got, for the players and staff, it was just part of their job, par for the course and something most of the guys didn't even notice anymore.

Sandor appreciated the rules, and also knew that because of who Sansa was, and what she meant to him, Ned had ok'd it so that she could travel with the team.

They had back to back games in King's Landing, and the team from the south was only a few points behind the Wolves' in the standings. These were critical matches, in late November. You might not win a championship this early in the season, but you sure as fuck could make it a lot harder on your team if you got into a losing streak.

Sandor knew that this was grind time for the boys. They'd been back for a couple of months, and the longest stretch of the season was upon them. Gone now was the excitement of a 'new' season; now, they were faced with the hard work to keep their standing and rack up the wins and the points in the standings. Everyone wanted the home-ice advantage when playoffs rolled around in April.

Sandor took his usual spot at the back of the plane so he could keep an 'eye' on things. Ned and Cassel sat in the front, and while Bronn, Tormund and Ric usually joined him, today, Sansa was chirping happily to him as they took their seats.

Of course, she knew everyone. She had known some of the guys longer than him, and she was giving it as good as she got it. Guys like Jon, of course, but others too. Jory Cassel and Clay Cerwyn, Jon Umber and the three fucking Karkstarks. There were Arya and Gendry, who were thick as thieves, as always, and of course, Robb and Ric. No one mentioned Theon. They'd called another guy up from the farm system to replace him.

Sandor knew they were damn lucky they were as good as they were, cause despite being assholes, Ramsay and Theon had been two of their top-six forwards. Those were big holes to fill on a 20 team roster. 

Now, as Sandor took his customary seat at the back, he watched his finance, and holy shit did he get a thrill out of that title, chaeted with all the guys.

Fuck, she looked so good here. She was dressed in a Wolves' t-shirt, with little runners on, dark skinny jeans and her bright red hair long and loose. If she'd been a knock out when her hair had been blonde, the red made her the most beautiful woman in all of Westeros. When she was finally near him, he reached out and tugged at her, so she came tumbling into his lap.

She giggled, making his cock hard as fucking nails, and kissed him, wrapping her hot little body around his.

"Oh for fuck sakes you two, get a room," Bronn grumbled, all but throwing himself into the seat opposite them. Sansa laughed again but did not attempt to move.

"My guy needs some sugar."

Bronn rolled his eyes. "Sure."

"Dog!" Tormund cried. The man had a massive grin on his face as he took the final seat, joining them.

"Don't ask him why he looks like that," Sandor muttered, but it was too late.

Sansa warmly welcomed the goalie and asked why he was in such a good mood.

"The big woman. She is mine. We consummated our love last night…"

"Oh fuck no," Bronn said, interrupting Tormund. "No, no, no. I don't want to fucking hear it."

Tormund appeared crestfallen, and Sansa grabbed his hand.

"Maybe you can tell us, but not with so many details."

His face lit, and Sandor shook his head, settling in with Sansa still perched on him, knowing that this trip was going to be the best one yet, with his woman by his side, and there tonight, cheering him one, wearing his fucking jersey and name on her back.

And soon, she'd be his fucking wife.

That was the best thought in the entire world.

* * *

Sandor watched as Sansa did something with some makeup brush, claiming she needed one more minute before she was ready to go. Already wise to the fact that the woman he loved was not the most punctual person in the world, he crossed his arms and stood back, just watching her.

Like he'd predicted, seeing her in his Wolves' jersey, knowing she'd be wearing it in enemy territory, well, it made him feel like the beast he knew he was. Sandor was fucking pumped for the game tonight, prepared to take the Capital's apart, one man at a time.

"Dany just texted. They are going to meet us at the rink. Your biggest fan isn't me. It's her son."

Sansa flipped her phone and showed Sandor a picture of little Roc, sporting a faux hawk and a Wolves' jersey with his name on it. For a brief moment, Sandor was reminded of another little boy that he'd been a favourite to, but pushed thoughts of them aside. They were his past, and his mother hadn't wanted a future with Sandor, not like Sansa. She'd accepted all of him.

"Ok, baby. One quick picture, then we can go to the rink," Sansa said, hurrying over. Sandor was in a suit, Burberry tonight, and he pulled her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. That's when she took the picture, and he had to admit, they looked smoking hot together.

She was happily adding her tags and messages as Sandor guided her to the waiting Range Rover and inside. Usually, he'd travel to and from the rink with the team, but Ned knew with Sansa here, she wanted to get some time in with her friends.

Sansa was telling him all about Dany and Drogo as they drove towards the rink.

"It's so sad. They had Roc and love being parents. But since then, it's just been one miscarriage after another for them."

Sandor grunted, stunned at how much the thought of that affected him. He wanted half a dozen kids with Sansa, at least. What happened if, for some reason, they couldn't have them?

"That's shitty," he muttered.

"Yeah. But I think they're looking into adoption. And for now, Dany's focused on her career and Drogo's super supportive. I'm sure when the time is right, they'll either expand their family or just pour all their love into Roc. He's a super cool kid."

Sandor reached for her hand and squeezed, and they shared a look. There was a sadness in the car, and Sandor knew it needed to be addressed.

"Whatever life throws at us, Sansa, we face it together."

She sniffed. "I know. I do. I just want to be a mom so badly, Sandor."

He nodded and brushed his lips across the back of her hand. "And you will be. No matter what, little bird, we'll make it happen."

Sandor knew there were more than a few kids like him out there; he couldn't think about it too long or else it made him rage, but if the way they had to have a family was adopting kids that some assholes had rejected, well, fuck, that's what they'd do.

"I love you so much," she told him.

"I love you as well, Sansa."

When they got to the rink, Sandor parked in the designated spots for the team, taking Sansa's hand as they walked inside. They were early, so there weren't that many photographers hanging out and with his distinctive face, and Sansa's passes, they waited at the front for Sansa's friend.

It wasn't even five minutes when a tiny silver-haired woman appeared holding hands with a large, tattooed man, who had long hair. There was a small boy on his shoulders, wearing a Wolves' jersey.

Sansa and Dany spotted each other, and both squealed and launched themselves at one another, hugging and touching each other's hair. Sandor had no idea why the fuck women did that shit, but the little bird seemed happy.

The man eyed Sandor, then a huge grin broke out on his face, and he held out his hand.

"My man," he said, and Sandor shook it. "Drogo."

"Sandor."

"I know. Little man here loves you."

Sandor gazed up to the boy, who was staring at him in utter awe.

Sandor held out his hand for a high-five, pleased when the kid smacked it.

"You're my favourite," he whispered reverently.

Sandor chuckled. "Well, I was hoping you'd have some time. I need someone to help me check out the jerseys and equipment before the game."

Roc's eyes went huge, and then he was wiggling on Drogo.

"Daddy, down!"

Drogo laughed and grabbed him, tickling his belly as he brought him down to the ground.

"Sandor, this is Dany," Sansa said, tugging on his hand and tucking herself against him.

Sandor shook the little blonde's hand, thinking her eyes had to be contacts; they were fucking purple. Sandor shook his head, coughed and then nodded to the guard to open the doors.

Sandor frowned a bit and looked at Sansa's friends. "I wish you guys were at our rink." He sighed. "But, this will do."

"Mr. Hound," Roc said, fitting his hand into Sandor's as they began to walk.

Sandor stilled for a moment, looking down in wonder at the small boy. Gods, he wanted this.

He was so caught up in his biggest fan, and he didn't even notice the other's and their faces, as he led them deeper into the rink, wondering how soon Sansa might want to get married.

* * *

_Sansa_

Sansa and Dany were walking behind the guys, arms linked, comfortable with each other the way women who had been friends for a while were.

"He's pretty incredible, San. How did you go from Harry to that?"

Sansa laughed, shaking her head. "I have no idea, but thank goodness, right?"

Dany giggled. "Umm, yeah. He's a whole lot of yum."

"Wait until you see him on the ice."

"Girl, my son loves him. Trust me when I say that I know all about the Hound." Dany lowered her voice. "So, is he as good in bed as advertised."

"Oh my god, yes, Dan!"

Sansa loved her friends in the North and was happy there, deliriously so. But Dany had been one of her best and only friends in King's Landing. Being back here, with her, and together with their two guys who it seemed to be getting along famously was like a dream.

Roc's little face went into complete awe as Sandor pushed into the visitor's dressing room.

"I wish you could see our home dressing room. It's way better," Sandor said, and Dany sent heart eyes to Sansa.

"Husband material," she mouthed, and Sansa wished she could tell her. Still, it was something to stand back and watch as Sandor introduced Roc, Dany and Drogo to Arya and Sam, and then as some of the guys started to file in.

Robb, Jon and Ric were the first there, and Roc was almost bouncing in joy as the guys high fived him, giving him sticks and Wolves' gear. Then Ric, bless him, asked Roc if he wanted to come down and check out the ice.

"I like to take a few minutes and just see it," Ric said.

Roc just nodded and fit his hand in Ric's as they wandered down the hallway.

"He's safe with Ric," Sansa told Dany. Drogo had somehow found Bronn and Tormund, and the two men, along with Sandor, were in an in-depth discussion about motorcycles.

Finally, when Ric and Roc came back, the little boy threw himself into Dany's arms.

"Mama, I got to ride the 'boni!" he exclaimed, and Dany laughed, her purple eyes dancing.

"You did?"

"I did." He rested his head against Dany's shoulder, and Sansa's ovaries just about exploded. As if sensing her mood, Sandor was there, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Alright?"

"Yeah, babe. I'm good."

Soon enough, it was time for them to leave. The guys had a game to get ready for, and the four of them had dinner reservations at the restaurant on the main level of the rink. Roc couldn't stop talking about the Wolves' team, and even Drogo appeared impressive.

"He's a massive step up from Harry, Sansa," the man from Dothrak said.

Since she heartily agreed, Sansa just nodded. "He is."

When the waiter came to take their drink order, Sansa noticed Dany declined a drink, instead of sticking with water and tea.

Knowing her friend would tell her when she was ready but secretly happy for her friend, Sansa sipped her wine and asked how Dany's latest line was. Distracted, her friend told her how well it was going and asked about life in the North.

Happy to catch up, Sansa happily gushed about her new life. At the end of their meal, she and Dany took some pictures, which Sansa eagerly posted to her Instagram account, knowing people would love them.

Half an hour before game time, they went to find their seats. Sansa had suggested a luxury booth, but Dany said Roc wanted to be close to the action, so they were a few rows up from the Wolves' bench.

Roc was bouncing as the guys waved at him, and Sandor flipped him a puck, winking at him.

"Keeper, San. Lock that man down."

Oh, she had. And she would.

Like always, once the ice went through its final cleaning, the lights dimmed to welcome the teams to the ice, and excitement hummed through Sansa's blood.

How had she ever given this up? Hockey was in her blood, and it was in her family's blood. She could hardly imagine that her children, that their children, wouldn't be just as in love with it as she was.

Roc crawled onto her lap, and she snuggled him close.

"Sanny, is Sandor scared when he plays?"

"No baby," she said, brushing his dark curls back. Gods, he was a gorgeous kid.

"That's good."

The Wolves' piled onto the ice, to the boos of the home crowd, and Sansa whistled for her guy. All her guys. Sandor, Ric, Robb, Jon, her dad. The whole team. This was her team.

Of course, wherever Sandor went, he had a huge following; the guy was a draw, even if he played on the opposition team. He was the Hound, and he had fans everywhere.

Sandor shuffled his feet when the starting lineups were announced. Sansa saw that he glanced towards her, and right before he put his helmet back on, he winked at her.

Need gushed through her, as she watched her guy skate back and tap Tormund on the pads before they lined up for puck drop.

"Ready, Roc?"

"Oh yeah, Aunty Sanny. So ready."

The ref blew his whistle, the puck dropped, and the game was on, and Sansa knew her throat would be raw from cheering her team on all night long.

Three hours later, Drogo held an exhausted Roc as they waited for the team after their hard-fought 3-2 win over the Capital. Sandor had a Gordie Howe hattrick, a goal, an assist and a fight. He'd been the first star again, and Roc had loved every single minute. When the guys came out, they high fived the exhausted five-year-old, and then Sandor emerged, face lighting when he saw Sansa.

"Hey little bird," he said, grinning at her. He gave the game-winning puck to Roc and kissed her, and Sansa all but melted into to him.

"Enjoy the game, little man?"

"It was the best. You were the best."

Rumbling out a chuckle, Sandor ruffled his hair.

That night when they were in bed, Sandor pulled her close.

"I want a bunch of those, Sansa. Kids, babe. A whole house full, anyway we can, little bird."

Since she was on the same page, she hummed her agreement and snuggled deeper into his arms.

* * *

The next morning Sansa forced herself out of bed and into the shower at some godawful time. Sandor laughed at her as she grumbled, noting it was already 7 am.

"No one should be up this early," she muttered, grabbing a coffee from the room service cart and dragging her butt into the shower.

She had an entire day of meetings planned with Yohn, and as much as she might like to play hooky and watch the guys at their morning practise, she'd been seriously slacking when it came to her business.

Already she knew they were behind due to everything that had happened with Ramsay and the fire. If it hadn't been for Yohn and his incredible work ethic, she knew she would be in a world of hurt.

She exited the bathroom in her business outfit, inhaling the scent of fresh coffee, bacon and a perfectly prepared omelette. Moaning, Sansa sat down to eat, only glancing up as she crunched on bacon.

Sandor was staring at her, heat in his eyes.

"What?"

"Fuck, you look amazing."

Sansa glanced down at the pencil skirt and white blouse, realizing he'd never seen her dressed like this. She'd wound her long hair up into a sleek knot on the top of her head, and had added tasteful pieces of jewelry. Even though it was just Royce, Sansa always felt better when she dressed for success.

"Yeah? You like?" She winked at him, and her man growled.

He was shirtless and wearing only boxer-briefs, and Sansa wondered how her tongue wasn't hanging out of her mouth with all that glorious amount of man on display. But, she was also hyper-focused on work.

"When I'm back, you can undress me," she promised, and he nodded, kissing her hard on the lips.

Ten minutes later, Sansa walked into the office space in her hotel Yohn had rented for this meeting, gasping when she saw the ads he'd printed and blown up for their upcoming spring campaign. She'd been so wrapped up in her personal life that she'd had hardly any time at all for this. Seeing some of the options, her heart beat faster.

Gods, she loved this company.

Standing there, grinning at her was Yohn. He opened his arms, and she went willingly into them, hugging him hard.

"Thank you," she whispered to him.

His chest rumbled, and he said it was nothing.

When she stepped back, Sansa finally realized there was someone else in the room. It was a young woman, perhaps a year younger than Sansa with mousey brown hair and warm eyes.

Yohn had Sansa by the elbow and guided her towards where the woman was sitting.

"Sansa, this is Gilly. She's here as a sort of interview by experience if you will," he said, smiling kindly. "Gilly is interested in the job as your personal assistant."

For the past few years, Sansa had balked at hiring someone for that job. She'd thought she could do it all, and MiSa had been small enough along with her You Tube channel. It no longer was, and if she wanted her company to become what she thought it could be, Sansa knew she needed help.

The two women shook hands, and Sansa learned that Gilly was from the far North.

"I've never lived in a big city like Wintertown, but Mr. Royce says it's nice."

"It's great and welcome to MiSa and my crazy life! Being my personal assistant is sure to be a wild ride."

Sansa's smile was warm and welcoming.

Gilly smiled shyly.

"Thanks for giving me a chance, Ms. Stark. I've worked for my dad. He owns a big mining company in the far North so that I can keep up, I promise."

"Let's see how today goes, Gilly. But I do need help, and as long as there are no major problems, I'm sure this will all work out."

Sansa saw her shoulders sag in relief.

"Thanks, Ms. Stark. I've got a little boy, and the salary and benefits would go a long way to giving him a secure future."

Sansa's just about melted then and there, as Gilly showed her a few pictures of her son. It was clear she was a devoted mother, and Sansa knew what it was like to take a chance and strike out on her own.

"Well, let's get started," Sansa said, all but rubbing her hands together, eagerness humming through her.

Gilly was a sweetheart and hurriedly opened her laptop to keep notes on their meeting.

"These are some of the candidates I've vetted for the top tier positions, Sansa," Royce said, handing her a thick package.

"As discussed, the senior team we are looking to hire includes a Chief Operating Officer, a Chief Financial Officer, a Senior Manager of Product Development and a Senior Manager of Packaging and Design."

"And good ones?" Sansa asked, sipping at her latte.

"A few. But I'll let you go through them and see if we're on the same page."

Nodding, Sansa promised she would.

The next big item on the agenda was the details over their first two weeks of the Christmas-line launch. It wasn't even December, but everyone in retail rolled things out the second week of November, which meant they were already almost ten days into it. This was a critical season for make-up, and Sansa knew that a third of their profits came from this season alone.

They spent an hour and a half going over what was selling well, where sales were lagging, pricing on a few products that now seemed too high, as well as the surprise that eye palettes appeared to be the 'in' thing this year.

"And the ad campaigns?"

Royce sighed and gave her a look. "We could use help, Sansa. I won't lie to you, and this is not my area of expertise. We need someone to take the lead on that end of things. I know your friend Wyn is a wizard at this type of thing. Do you think she would be interested in a freelance contract?

"I will ask her."

"Good. There is one more person I had in mind that could change the way people look at your make-up line, quite literally. I don't want to step on your toes, but I've heard he's quite unhappy with his current position."

"Who?"

"Varys."

Sansa arched an eyebrow. "He works for Baelish as Senior Manager of Packaging and Design, right?"

Petyr Baelish was Sansa's biggest rival in the makeup business in Westeros. The man had years to build his brand and was everywhere; his cutting edge designs and slick marketing campaigns covering up the fact that his products were tested on animals and were, quite frankly, inferior to hers. Plus, there was the fact that Petyr was a creep and that her grandparents hated him, even though he'd married her Aunt.

"He does. But he's not happy there. He's willing to leave for the right price."

"And that price?"

Royce named a number that didn't even make Sansa blink.

"Do it. Get him."

Royce's eye lit, and he nodded. "I'll meet with him this week. I think this is the right move, Sansa."

She did, as well.

"Now, my dear, let's talk contracts."

Sansa sipped her coffee and squared her shoulders. Initially, the plan had been to be North already, with the new warehouse and the people in place. That was delayed, but she didn't want to put it off any longer than she had to.

"When do you move to Wintertown?"

"Two weeks."

She nodded, humming and tapping her heeled foot.

"Alright. We'll need to secure both office space and warehouse space first. Sandor and I just bought a new house, which we are also moving in on December 1st, so life is going to be busy. Can we go down to a month by month contract with our factory and warehouse here?"

"We can," Royce said and then launched into the terms of the agreement. They weren't as good as when she signed one-year leases or multi-year deals, but it was better than what she thought she'd get stuck with. She signed her name with a flourish after she read them through and knew Royce would make it happen.

They spent another hour making a detailed list of what needed to happen to move North and deciding on what decisions could be left in Royce's hands, and what needed Sansa's approval. With that done, they were ready to move onto the make-up itself.

"Spring line," she said, glancing at the pictures around the room.

Now that the nitty-gritty details were worked out, she could focus on the fun stuff, the stuff she loved. The formula had already been developed since it takes months to create a new product. Now she'd needed to hurry with selecting the colours so the production of the end-product could start since they'd launch this line mid-March. She wandered the room, looking at the colours they had gone with and some of the choices.

"I think we should make the eyeshadows singles," she said, eyes lost in the soft colours that she loved best.

Spring was always a time for renewal, and she adored the shades that they could use.

"We're offering these big, multi-coloured limited palettes for Christmas. I think we need to make the spring palettes more inclusive, with a few neutral shades and a lot of fun spring colours. The packaging needs to be perfect on them: something decadent, like a little treat you'd buy for yourself, you know. A luxurious feel to it, but with a price that the average make-up lover can still afford."

"And what if they want to build their own palette by adding 4 or 9 colours to one?"

Sansa cocked her head and thought about it. Then she turned to Gilly.

"What do you think?"

Gilly swallowed hard and stood, walking to stand by Sansa.

"If you sell them as both singles and just the pans that they can add to an empty palette, you give the customer a choice. And you'll probably get people buying both."

Sansa beamed at her and nudged her with her shoulder. "Excellent idea. If we make the shadows in just their pans a little cheaper than the singles, we'd be selling more overall because our customers will be more inclined to buy 4 or 9 pans to create their own perfect palette instead of them buying a few single eyeshadows."

They moved on to highlighters, agreeing to package two different colours: one for cool undertones, one for warm undertones. She'd also created six different blushes: 3 peach-toned ones for light, medium and dark skin. And three pink tones. After that, they spent a solid two hours on lip glosses and liquid lipsticks. She'd picked out a bunch of natural shades, but also a few pops of fun colours since they were going into spring and summer.

Spent, Sansa grinned as there was a knock on the door and the hotel staff entered with lunch. Grateful for the break, Sansa shot a quick text message off to Sandor asking how their morning skate was. He said okay and promised to stop by the room when he was back at the hotel, telling her not to work too hard.

Sansa looked at the notes Gilly had taken, impressed at the fact that she had captured everything so far.

After lunch, Royce broached the subject of expansion, telling Sansa she should start to think about selling more than just make-up.

"There is a whole market for things such as lashes, makeup bags, brush rolls, travel bags, mirrors, phone cases, etcetera."

"Yeah, but who would buy that stuff just cause my name is on it?" Sansa asked.

"I would," Gilly said, and then blushed.

"Really?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, you're a celebrity. You're Sansa Stark."

Sansa just stared at Gilly, until the woman looked down at her computer. Then her eyes shot to Royce, who wore a bemused expression.

"It's true."

Sansa had no idea what to say to that. She was a YouTuber, and an Instagram hit, sure, but a celebrity? She certainly did not see herself that way.

There was a knock and the door, and Sandor's head poked in. He stepped in the room when Sansa waved him in and shook hands with Royce and Gilly. He looked decidedly uncomfortable around the make-up boards, and Sansa giggled when he excused himself to go and shower.

"Be up soon. We're almost done here."

"Take your time, little bird." Then he was gone, and Royce clucked his tongue.

"He's quite large, isn't he."

Sansa laughed and said, "Summer line. Thoughts?"

"Let's set a date to start working on it; say no later than February 2nd. Hopefully, we'll have Varys, and a few more people and some things nailed down when it comes to the warehouse and office space."

She nodded and then tosses a few ideas she had about setting sprays, cream blushes, bronzers, and summer eyeshadows. When they finally stopped, she realized she'd been working for over six hours, and it felt incredible.

Gilly was officially hired, with Royce promising to push through the paperwork by the end of the weekend and Gilly saying she'd begin to look for an apartment.

"For now, we can do a lot by email and text," Sansa said. "I know Christmas is coming up, and I'd hate for you to rush."

"Thank you," Gilly said.

Sansa grinned.

"Are you alone here?"

Gilly nodded. "My sister is taking care of my son."

"Well, then I insist you both join me at the Wolves' game tonight. I have a luxury booth, and my friend Dany and her husband and son will be there as well."

Gilly started to protest, and Sansa waved a hand. "Gilly, come. Please. Unless you hate hockey."

"Oh no, Ms. Stark, I love it."

"Sansa. Call me, Sansa."

"Sansa."

Pleased with the day, Sansa hurried out of the room, humming happily to herself, and she went to the elevator and pressed the floor to their room. She was feeling great about her company, and now she got to have some very sexy times with the man she loved. She had a PA, who was going to be great, and life just felt perfect right now.

She swiped her key to her room just as Sandor was walking out of the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips, wiping at his hair.

Her entire body went into overdrive, as her eyes saw a droplet of water roll down those impressive abs.

"Yum," she said.

He turned, winked and grinned at her, dropping the towel. Gods, she wanted this man!

"Done for the day?"

Sansa threw her purse and phone onto the table.

"I am now," she said, going to step out of her shoes until he commanded her not to.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "No?"

"Fuck, I want to fuck you in those shoes, little bird."

Desire pulsed through Sansa, making her ache, making her wet. Sandor stalked towards her.

"I believe I get to undress you," he murmured, his hands already untucking her blouse. Sansa swore, she shook. The way this man made her feel drove her wild, and knowing that he'd wanted her this entire time made her feel powerful in a way she never had with another man.

"Then what are you waiting for?" she said, arching her back and wiggling her butt at him.

He growled and had her bloused off in a second, followed by her skirt, so she was in heels, a tiny little thong and her favourite white lace bra. Then those were gone in a second, so all she had on were her heels.

"Mine," he said as he swiped a finger through her folds, finding her wet and ready for him. "Can't go slow, little bird."

"Don't. I need you, Sandor."

"Where?"

"In me."

"Beg, baby."

"Gods, please, Sandor. Please put your cock in me," she moaned, writhing on his fingers.

"Hands of the table, baby," he commanded, his voice taut. She knew he was barely holding on, like her.

She shimmied over to where they had eaten their breakfast, hours earlier, and placed both hands on the table, long legs on full display. Then she turned her head and licked her lips, seeing how he was watching her.

He was fisting his hard cock, and she felt the wetness of her desire between her thighs. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen before, and she ached for him to be inside her.

She reached up and shook out her hair, and his eyes narrowed, desire and need pouring out of them. And all for her.

"Fucking hell woman, you are the hottest thing I've seen."

"I need you, Sandor."

He was there in a second, his large body wrapping around hers, making her feel loved, making her feel safe.

"Hold on, little bird," he murmured into her ear, just as he parted her and surged inside.

"Sandor!"

He thrust inside her, filling her the way no man ever had, and no one else ever would. This man was going to be her husband; he was hers!

She felt herself already start to flutter around him, moaning that she needed more. He was taking her hard and fast, hands on her hips, driving into her, again and again.

"More," she cried at one point, and he sucked on her neck, and she knew he'd leave a mark. She didn't care in the least. When she finally felt that tingle rush upon her, she grabbed his hand.

"I need you to touch me."

"Fuck, baby, I'm close. You gotta come, Sansa. I can't hold out much longer."

His words were unnecessary as she was already there, wailing as she broke apart, detonating in his arms as she screamed his name and clamped down on him. He thrust deeply inside and stilled, filling her full of his semen.

Sansa would have collapsed, except he was there, holding her up. He placed her gently on the bed and went and got a warm cloth to wash her off, all the while, grinning softly at her.

"What?"

"Still have the heels on little bird."

Laughing, she kicked them off and then beckoned him to join her. She loved his pre-game naps and the feel of falling asleep in his arms.

"Good day?" he asked.

"Best, baby. Love you, big guy."

"I love you, little bird."


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor picks out a ring and an update on Cat's condition

* * *

_ Sandor  _

As Sandor settled into his seat on the plane, he made a mental note to make plans with Catelyn Stark to pick out a ring for Sansa. It had been so difficult not to have everyone know that they were engaged when they'd been in King's Landing these past few days.

He wanted his ring on her hand and for the entire world, including the internet, to know that she was his. That she was taken. Sansa Stark was off the market. Because she’d agreed to become his wife. So the sooner he could get this ring business done and the big public proposal over with, the happier Sandor would be.

He'd really enjoyed Sansa's friends, Dany and Drogo, and their kid had been incredible. Little Roc had talked his ear off, chattering happily about the game and everything he'd seen. They'd sat in the luxury box on the second night, giving Roc a new experience. Dany had finally let it slip that she was pregnant, and of course, Sansa had told Dany about their engagement.

Sandor had no problem with Sansa telling Dany, but it still wasn't the same as having his ring on her finger, and all her twelve million followers knew she was taken.

That was what Sandor wanted, and if that made him a caveman, he didn't rightly care too fucking much.

Sandor also hated having to keep it a secret from everyone like the rest of her family, her friends and his teammates. He just wanted people to know.

Dany had promised that she'd work on Sansa's wedding dress and that they'd be at the wedding. So far, they'd agreed that they'd marry in the summer in the North when the hockey season was over and that Bronn would his best man, while Arya would be her maid of honour.

When they got around to telling everyone they were engaged and they could ask them.

Beyond that, Sandor hadn't paid much attention to what Sansa wanted as it pertained to the wedding.

She'd mentioned something about Pinterest, which Sandor had heard Mama B talk about. Sansa had chirped away about colour schemes and flowers and the venue until Sandor had just grunted and nodded, watching her type away on her laptop as they'd taken seats by themselves on the plane home.

It was late, and they were at the back, and most of the guys had headphones on, tuning out after the two away games, leaving Sansa and Sandor in their private bubble.

Sansa had her new Personal Assistant, the mousy woman Sandor had met in King's Landing named Gilly starting in a few weeks, after Christmas.

Royce was scheduled to move into his new place at the same time they were, and Sandor was blown away when Sansa showed him some of her plans for her business.

He'd always known the little bird was smart, but seeing her with her charts and her graphs and hearing her speak about profit margins and second-quarter earnings had done something to his libido. It was such a turn on and Sandor had pulled her onto his lap, nuzzling at her neck.

"Such a smart little bird," he'd whispered while she'd giggled.

Sandor had no doubts that long after his hockey career was over, Sansa would be on top of the make-up world with her company. And for some reason, she'd chosen him to be by her side.

"It's just business," she said deflecting.

Sandor frowned.

"Sansa, look at me."

When their eyes met, he saw worry there, and he smoothed his big thumb down her cheek.

"I love how smart you are. How driven. I can't wait to see you take the world by storm, babe."

She relaxed and all but melted into him, wrapping her arms around his middle, so her mouth rested against his ear.

"Sometimes I worry because I have such big plans, Sandor. And I want a family- a big family. I mean, we've talked about how many kids we want. But maybe I'm selfish to think I can have both."

Sandor thought about her words, running a big hand down her back. Their lives were incredibly busy and only about to get more so. But they also weren't alone.

They had family, friends and teammates.

Rickon was moving onto their property, and his parents were going to retire to Wintertown, Dacey and Robb couldn't be far behind them in the whole; let's get married game, and if the way Tormund went on about Brienne, the big woman would be staying in the North as well.

Bronn might not ever make an honest woman out of Jeyne, but he wasn't going anywhere, and Wyn and Jon were both from the North as well, so they'd always be here as well.

When he spilled all this to her, those blue eyes he loved sheened with tears.

"How do you always know the perfect thing to say?"

His chest rumbled at how much faith Sansa put in him.

"Sansa, we'll figure it out. We have people and money. And yeah, our lives are crazy busy, but that's how we like it, right?"

She nodded. "We do. I am so excited to bring MiSa North, Sandor."

"I know."

They were quiet for a time, and both lost in their thoughts when he coughed. He'd been thinking about starting some charity work, and he'd been thinking about children.

"I've been thinking about starting a charity."

He'd mentioned it to her before, and while he knew the timing wasn't great, with everything going on, he didn't want it to get lost in the shuffle.

"Yeah, I remember. I think it's wonderful, Sandor."

"Not now. I mean, we've got so much happening. But I want to give back Sansa."

She pressed her lips against his, warming him through. "You are such a good man."

He brought her hand up to his lips. "Something else I've been thinking about, but not sure what you'll think."

To her credit, she didn't overreact, just sat there gazing at him with such patience that he knew he'd never deserve this woman.

"It's… ah…. Well, it's about kids."

She nodded, and Sandor wondered if she'd already figured out what he was going to say. She seemed to know he better than he knew himself.

"Maybe, once we're all settled and married and stuff, well –"

Sandor looked down at his hands, the nicks and scars there, remembering how hellish his life had been before the Marbrands. He also remembered how closed off he'd been and that had prevented them from pushing to adopt him.

Sandor didn't regret how his life turned out – not with a lap full of warm Sansa, but he did wish he'd been more open to the possibilities of what the Marbrand's represented sooner in his life.

And maybe there was a kid out there that they could save. He just had to get over himself and tell Sansa. He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes.

"I think maybe I'd like to look into adoption one day."

The weight lifted as the words left his mouth, and he saw Sansa nod. She had to have known what he'd been thinking, but she still hadn't pushed him, letting him get it out in his way.

"I'd like that, Sandor."

"And while I'd like to help fund some of the homes for those women that are running away from a bad situation, I want to focus on the kids Sansa. So many of them just get nothing. I mean, yeah, maybe they don't live in fear anymore, but it fucking sucks always to be the kid wearing hand me down clothes or not having enough money to play sports."

Sansa had tears in her eyes as she gazed at him, something akin to wonder on her face.

"You are the best man, Sandor. I'm so lucky I met you," she said. "And so will all these kids we're going to help. We'll do it, Sandor – make time because it's important. And when the right child comes into our life, we'll know, baby. We'll know that they are meant to be ours. As much as any children that we make together."

He swallowed over the lump in his throat, liking what that sounded like. He still wanted kids with Sansa, but he also knew in his gut that there was some kid out there that was meant to be theirs.

Sandor put a big hand on her stomach and nuzzled against her ear.

"Still want our own pups, Sansa. Want to see you all ripe and big, carrying my baby."

She moaned and wiggled, and Sandor's cock roared to life. The plane was mostly dark, a few of the guys on their iPads, but many were sleeping. For two seconds he thought about slipping a big finger or two inside her and making her come all over his hand, but then he realized she had two brothers and her father here, and while they may have accepted him as part of the family, if they were caught, she'd be embarrassed, and things would be awkward.

Instead, he kept whispering to her, knowing she'd be aching for him by the time they got home.

"You like that thought? Being all pregnant with my baby, Sansa?"

Her lips unerringly found his, and she kissed him hard.

“Knocked up by the Hound?” he growled into her ear.

"Gods, Sandor, you have no idea. I can't wait."

Then she laughed, softly and it took the keenest edge off their desire.

"My mother will kill us both if I'm pregnant for the wedding."

Sandor's answering chuckled said he knew she was right. Both Mama B and Catelyn would not be impressed if they couldn't wait – and Sandor didn't even want to think what Sansa's granny might say.

This wedding was going to be a big fucking deal, because of who the Starks were and who he and Sansa had become.

And he knew his woman – she wanted the perfect day. She'd most likely been planning this since she'd been a little girl. So he could wait until they were on their honeymoon, and then it would be open season when it came to making a baby.

Sansa yawned and then snuggled deeper into his embrace. He contented himself with just holding her, as the plane carrying them and the rest of the Wolves flew them home, towards Wintertown, and everything Sandor had ever wanted.

* * *

Winter had truly come to the North, as a cold front had blown in a day after they'd arrived home from the south. There was snow everywhere and it didn’t appear to be letting up anytime soon.

Sandor had purchased a bunch of winter gear with Sansa a few weeks back when she'd demanded to see what he had and deemed it 'not sufficient.'

Bowing to her superior knowledge, Sandor had allowed her to drag him to one of those high end sporting goods shops where he ended up dropping a grand, buying winter boots, toques, gloves and a puffy jacket that alone had set him back $400. Sansa insisted he was now ready for the North.

"Although, you might want to talk to my Dad about what snowblower to buy for our driveway," she'd said a knowing grin on her face. The Starks all loved to bug him about winter, but Sandor had no worries.

Sandor had heard of such machines, but he was from the West. He'd never had to own one before. That's when he realized that Robb's prediction about needing a truck was more than accurate and that living up here was quite the adventure. Sandor fucking loved driving in the snow – it was such an adrenaline rush.

With a few days before their move and fresh snow on the ground, Sandor had carved out a bit of time with Catelyn to go ring shopping. They'd played it off as Sandor taking her to an appointment, as Sansa was busier than ever coordinating things with Royce, Gilly and Pod.

Hearing Pod's name reminded Sandor that he needed to touch base with Sansa's guy and give him the 411 on the upcoming proposal. Come to think about it, he should probably loop Wyn in as well. She was smart as hell when it came to all this PR shit.

Sandor had only caught snippets of Sansa’s conversation, but she appeared to be moving fast to secure some key people and spending hours looking at office and warehouse space in the North.

It was a good thing she was so caught up in her world that she was grateful he was taking her Mom to her appointment today, and not suspicious. Sandor had just gotten Cat settled in his big SUV when he noticed a sneaky smile lurking on her face.

"What's that for?" he asked.

"Well, I hope you don't think I've overstepped, but it appears my son is ready to make an honest woman of Dacey," Cat said, absolutely beaming.

Sandor felt like a bit of a shithead since his first thought was Robb was trying to steal his moment with Sansa.

Something must have shown on his face, because Cat's hand came down on his arm.

"Oh no, nothing like that, Sandor. He's planning on asking her on Christmas Eve, at the Stark family gathering. But I thought it might be nice to help both my boys pick out rings. If you mind…"

Feeling like a heel, Sandor shook his head.

As he drove towards Robb's place that he was still sharing with Jon, Sandor realized it was true. He and Sansa were already engaged – this was just to make it official. And as much as Sansa would love the big, public proposal, Dacey would have been mortified.

"No, it's all good," Sandor mumbled and felt like a jerk a bit still. He just didn't want this to take away from Sansa, and it sort of felt like Robb was stealing the show.

"Sandor talk to me," Catelyn said softly. They had a few minutes until they got to Robb's place.

He heaved out a sigh and glanced at Sansa's Mom. She was looking thinner and frailer than ever. He knew this wasn't a good sign when it came to someone battling cancer. And here he was, acting like a spoilt child. Still, he knew he had to tell her what he was thinking.

"I just want Sansa to have her time to shine, that's all," he told Cat and gave her a knowing look. "Robb's always been in the spotlight, with his hockey prowess and being the firstborn. And yeah, Sansa has made a name for herself, but it is because of **her** hard work that she was where she is. Just don't want her wedding day to get lost in the shuffle, that's all."

Catelyn sniffed and wiped away a tear.

"Oh, you sweet man. It won't, I promise you. Sansa has been planning her wedding for ages, and it'll be quite the event, I'm sure. Whereas I can see Dacey and Robb sneaking off to Pentos and getting hitched on a long weekend and then coming back and throwing a big party."

Sandor grunted. "Fair enough."

They drove in silence for a bit until Cat's voice broke through both their musings.

"I'm not sure the chemo is working the way it's supposed to Sandor. My doctors have 'revised' their initial opinion of my cancer."

Sandor's stomach sank, and his heart felt like it would beat out of his chest with this news. For a moment, he was back in the hospital room beside his own mother, trying to understand why the doctor had looked so grim.

"Has it spread?" he asked quietly, dreading her answer.

"No. But neither have the tumours responded the way they thought they would to the treatment. It might be a bit of a tougher go than we all thought a few months ago."

"Who knows?"

"Ned, of course. And Robb overheard us speaking about it. I think, perhaps, now that he's found Dacey, he's worried, Sandor. We all know they are perfect for one another, but Robb's always been a bit headstrong and impulsive. If he gets an idea in his head… well –"

She trailed off, nothing more needed to be said. How on earth could Sandor fault Robb for wanting his mother, who was battling cancer and not doing well, to witness him asking the woman he loved to marry him? Especially if that battle wasn’t going great. Who knew how long Cat might have?

Sandor's big hand grasped Catelyn's, and it was surprisingly gentle.

"Sansa will be thrilled for them," was all he said, and Cat's answering smile was enough to soothe any ill feelings that might have remained.

They were family; they were a pack. This was what mattered – that they support one another through the ups and the downs.

When they got to Robb's place, he was waiting. His customary chipper grin was gone, and Sandor saw the worry there.

"Hey man, I didn't mean to step in the middle of anything. I had no idea about you and Sansa," he started to say when he got in the back of the SUV.

Sandor waved a big hand. "It's no big deal. The girls will love it; I'm sure."

Robb grinned. "Dacey won't want a wedding like San. You guys will have the big society thing, where Dacey will probably convince me to elope."

Sandor knew that despite what Robb said, there was no way Catelyn would allow that to happen. But both Starks seemed to agree that Robb's wedding would in no way interfere with Sansa's.

"Just want the little bird to have the day she's always dreamed of," he told his teammate and soon to be brother in law.

Robb laughed and clapped him on the back.

"Oh man, Clegane, you have no idea what you are in for. Sansa has wedding binders. Plural man. She's been planning this day since she was five."

Sandor shot a look to Cat, who just hummed happily and nodded.

_Just how big a wedding did Sansa want?_ Sandor thought as he pulled into a high-end shopping mall that housed the finest the North had to offer.

Robb was positively cackling now. "Dude, it's gonna be epic."

Perhaps he should have paid more attention when she was speaking on the plane. He'd ask her when he got home. It didn't matter to Sandor, as long as it was what she wanted, but still, it was something to think about.

Maybe she wouldn’t want the big society wedding now that it was him that she was marrying?

They entered a jewelry store that instantly made Sandor feel like a lumbering oaf. The man behind the counter wore a suit that was as high end as anything that Sandor owned, while the two women wore sleek black dresses. The carpet was thick and plush, the lighting soft and warm, and the air rarified.

It was a place that Sandor would never have stepped in by himself, but the man's face lit with a warm, welcoming smile when he spotted Catelyn.

"Ahhhhh, Mrs. Stark," the man said and brushed a kiss against each cheek.

"Miles," she said warmly.

"To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I have some young men with me that are looking for something special."

The man's eyes landed on Sandor and Robb, who were standing there and lit. He recognized both Wolves' players and knew today would be lucrative for his store if they could find what they were looking for.

"Gentleman, what can we do for you?"

"I need a ring for my fiancé," Sandor said, feeling a blush stain his cheeks.

The man hummed and then waved a stunned dark-haired woman over to help Sandor.

"Ashleigh can help you," he said, and the woman smiled at Sandor.

"You're Sansan," she exclaimed softly.

Sandor grunted. He would never lose that name as long as he lived, and especially since he now lived in the North. Everyone seemed to know who they were.

"Yeah, I am. But no one knows yet about our engagement. I asked, and she said yes, but I didn't have the ring," he said by way of explanation.

Cat was standing beside him, a supportive hand on his arm.

"Well, I'm a huge follower of Ms. Stark. I've watched all her YouTube videos and follow her on Instagram. But I'd like to hear what you think she might like. After all, this ring is going to be on her finger for the rest of her life.”

Sandor felt in over his head, and this had barely started and looked a bit helplessly to Catelyn. This is why he'd asked her to come with him. So she could help him.

"Perhaps we can start with some solitaires," Cat said knowingly. "My daughter prefers something classic."

The woman nodded sagely and reached down to bring out a tray of rings. Sandor took his time, looking at the nine rings there. Some were quite large, which he liked. He'd done a bit of research and had learnt all about cut, colour, clarity and carat.

Still, Sandor was lost.

"I don't know," he muttered.

Thankfully, the woman came to his rescue.

"Alright, let's back up a bit. Do you know that you want a diamond?"

Sandor thought about that. When he pictured a ring on Sansa's finger, it was a diamond. They were the best right? That's what Sansa's deserved.

"Yeah. That's what I want. A diamond for her.”

Ashleigh nodded her approval.

"Ok good. When it comes to diamonds, think the four Cs. First, the cut is the most important C. Have you thought about that?"

Sandor pictured Sansa's fingers, how long and elegant they were.

"I like something a bit different. Maybe a rectangular or square diamond."

The woman nodded, thinking.

"And the colour?"

He frowned. "Aren't they all … diamond coloured?"

The woman smiled and shook her head. "No, diamonds come in a variety of colours. Is there a particular one that comes to mind?"

"Blue," he blurted out, wondering where that came from. "But like a nice blue."

"And of course, the clarity will be the highest quality. Now, what about carat?"

Sandor now looked truly lost, and the woman laughed.

"Alright, let me bring out a few options for you and then you can tell me how I've done."

She moved away from the counter then, as she gathered a few rings.

"How am I doing?" Sandor asked Cat.

"Fantastic."

He knew it was a lie, but he appreciated it none the less.

Ashleigh came back with three rings in varying sizes, shapes and colours, but Sandor knew which one he wanted for Sansa. It was a large, rectangular cut light blue diamond with smaller diamonds on the side all on a platinum band.

"That one," he said gruffly, pointing to it. It wasn't because it was the largest, though it was. It was because Sandor could see this ring on Sansa's finger.

"Oh, my," Cat gasped beside him.

That's when he knew it was perfect – it was Mom Stark approved. The clarity didn't matter, for the sparkle on it was almost blinding, but Ashleigh assured him it was virtually flawless and was their most expensive ring in the store.

Ashleigh smiled at him. "Do you even want to know the price, or have you decided?"

"Doesn't matter," Sandor muttered, reaching for his wallet.

In the end, it rivalled the price of his Aston, which Sandor figured was fair compensation. With his ring for Sansa purchased, packaged and wrapped in its snug little box, Sandor felt a weight lift from his shoulders and was able to turn his attention to Robb.

The man was floundering worse than Sandor had been, which made the big man pause. The Starks had grown up wealthy. Sandor assumed this kind of thing came naturally to them. Apparently, wealth mattered little when you were asking the woman you loved to marry you, as Robb was proving.

There were several discarded rings lying on the counter as Sandor and Cat stepped up to flank Robb. Sandor let a hand come to rest on Robb's shoulder, any thoughts of jealousy chased away.

"You got something for San?"

Sandor nodded and pulled out his phone to show Robb the picture since the ring was all packaged up.

"Wow, man. She's going to love it. That's so Sansa."

"Yeah, it is."

Truthfully, Sandor thought if he could afford nothing more than a cheap gold band with a little chip of a diamond, Sansa would have loved it. She was that kind of woman. She was about the relationship and not the status. The ring was as much for Sandor as it was for her – to prove to himself that he was worthy of her.

"What are you thinking?"

Robb ran a frustrated hand through his curls, making them appear even more dishevelled.

"Shes not like a girly girl, you know. But I want her to have something nice. I want her to be able to wear it when she's at the bar, or when we're hiking, or at the gym. So nothing huge that can catch on anything."

Ashleigh had drifted over and soon spoke up.

"What about a tension setting? The diamond is flush with the band, so it doesn't catch on anything, but it can still be a stunning piece of jewellery."

Relief coursed through Robb's face and body.

"Yeah, that sounds good. But like… I don't know. A solitaire maybe? But sort of big? I want her to know how serious I am.”

Sandor wondered if he'd looked at rings at all before coming. Robb just seemed to do things on a whim, totally contrary to Sansa. There were a few more rings brought out, before Robb finally found the one, he knew he wanted for Dacey.

Pleased that both her 'boys' had found what they were looking for, Sandor took Cat's arm as they wandered back to his SUV. He would suggest lunch, but he could see the fatigue on her face, and when they stepped outside, big fat snowflakes were falling from the sky.

"Ahhhh, winter is finally here," Robb said, breathing in the crisp air and grinning.

Sandor didn't mind the cold or the snow, although it meant both his bike and his Aston were parked for now. But he didn't love it the way the Starks seemed too. Cat patted his arm.

"It's ok, I don't get it either, and I've lived here for over three decades."

They dropped Robb off, who once again looked like he didn't worry about the world, but Sandor didn't miss the soft kiss he pressed to his Mom's cheek.

"Thanks, Mama, for your help," he told her, and Sandor saw Cat's tears.

"Always, Robby."

Neither man reacted to the childhood name that Catelyn used on her son.

"See you at practice tomorrow," he said before he gently closed the door, his eyes meeting Sandor. He knew that both of them were worried about Catelyn and how this little sojourn had taken so much out of her.

When they finally pulled into Winterfell, her eyes were closed, and Sandor wondered if she was sleeping.

"I'm awake, just resting my eyes."

Sandor said nothing, worry coursing through him.

"I'm a fighter, Sandor. No need to borrow troubles," she said, patting his arm again. "But, I would still take your help to get into the house."

He hurried around to her door and then to her surprise, scooped her up into his arms, easily carrying her frail frame into the house where Ned was waiting. Another look of worry, almost identical to the one that his son had worn, crossed his face.

"Ahhhh, love, wore yourself out, did you?" Ned said as Sandor transferred Cat to his arms.

"I'm fine," she murmured but didn't protest when Ned hugged her close. Both men heard the utter exhaustion in her voice.

"Did the boys get what they were after?"

Her smile was one Sandor would never forget. "They did, Ned. They picked out such nice rings for the girls. They'll be so pleased."

Ned grinned at Sandor, and then the big man excused himself from the main house. He knew that if Sansa wasn't working, she'd be packing, which he could help with. And he was feeling surprisingly emotional and a bit scared. He didn't like what Cat looked like these days, and while it might just be the treatments that had her feeling this way, the doctors' results were not encouraging.

He hurried to the little house where they were staying, needing to see Sansa. When he got there, she was in the middle of the living room, surrounded by boxes. She looked up, smiling brightly at him.

"Good morning?"

"Yeah," he said and then dropped to his knees to kiss her.

He felt almost desperate as if he could chase away some of the sadness he felt was coming for the Stark family.

Sansa, for her part, responded immediately and wrapped her arms around him. Even though it was the middle of the day, and they had a million things to do before they were ready to move in a few days, she knew he needed this.

"Make love to me, Sandor," she whispered against his ear, tugging at the lobe and biting down, knowing what it did to him. Desire roared through him and he knew he had to have her.

He had her scooped up in his arms, noting how much sturdier she felt than her mother and up the stairs. When he got to their temporary bedroom, Sandor kicked open the door.

"Need you," he muttered against her lips, his big hands roaming over her body, sneaking underneath the little top she wore. There was nothing but warm breast, and he groaned.

"You have me."

Their eyes locked, and he felt himself settle a little, although the desire was still there, hot and heavy in his veins.

"Can't take my time with you right now," he mumbled, almost embarrassed at how much he just wanted to be buried in her warm body.

Sansa's smile was everything.

"I don't need time, Sandor. Just you."

She wiggled until her yoga pants and underwear were gone, then pulled off her soft t-shirt, so she was naked, splayed out in the bed, and the heavy snow made everything seem quiet. It was as if they were the only two people in the world, and he was helpless to deny what she was offering.

He rose quickly and shed his clothing in record time, feeling the ache in his balls to be joined with his woman.

Sandor wished it was in his power to save the Starks the pain they might face if Cat couldn't beat this cancer. He loved her as much as he'd loved his mother, and Mama B.

The Stark matriarch had warmly welcomed him into her family and he wanted to spare these people that were now his family the pain of what it felt like to watch such a hideous disease steal the person you loved from you, right before your eyes.

But he could do none of that, so instead, he turned all that emotion he was feeling onto Sansa. He’d love on her, trying to keep the darkness at bay.

Where he'd thought he couldn't be slow, he gentled his touches, kissing and stroking her from the top of her head, down to the souls of her feet and everywhere in between. He'd made her come twice already until she was a needy, writhing mess on the bed before he finally took pity on her and sunk into her wet pussy. She was swollen and ripe, and her body stretched to fit him as he slid home.

She wrapped her legs and arms around him, keeping them joined like that for a moment.

"I love you so much," she whispered against his lips.

"Fucking hells, Sansa. I love you."

She nodded and then canted her hips, and no more words were needed as he moved inside her, scraping them both raw, right down to the love and desire that flowed so smoothly back and forth between them. When she finally peaked again, this time clenching tightly on him, Sandor stroked deep and followed her over, burying his head in her neck and muttering over and over again, how much he loved her, how she was everything to him.

Spent from the emotions of the day, Sandor Clegane curled up in Sansa's arms, distantly feeling her stroking a loving hand down his back.

"Sleep, my love. I've got you," she said and unable to do anything else, he finally closed his eyes and allowed rest to come. There would be battles to fight in the days to come, and Sandor knew that the Starks, all the Starks, would need him by their side, for the fight of Catelyn Stark's life.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They move into their new home and the public proposal finally happens!

* * *

_ Sansa _

Sansa bit back the giggle that threatened to escape as Sandor was trying to direct the movers about which furniture was theirs, and what belonged to Rickon. Her little brother had gone on a bit of a tear when it came to his new house, and now their stuff was all jumbled up together as they were attempting to sort it out.

"For fuck sakes rookie, label shit," Sandor snarked.

Rickon, like a puppy, was too excited and too eager to take offence to Sandor’s bark.

"I just saw it and had to have it, you know."

He was talking about his movie theatre style couch that he'd purchased, which was the same leather, style and colour as what Sansa had ordered for one of the rooms in their basement. Her little brother had gone a little crazy purchasing stuff to move into his own home, and Sansa didn’t point out how many of Ric’s ‘choices’ seemed to be things Sandor liked as well.

For some reason, Sandor's bark never bothered Rickon, and within moments, her little brother always smoothed the roughest edges of Sandor. Her man could never stay annoyed with Ric for too long.

"Like, when you come over to watch movies, man. I just wanted you to have a good place to sit."

That made Sandor pause as he looked at Ric.

“Thanks man,” Sandor said, quietly, so only those who were watching them could hear. Sansa knew that as much as Rickon loved her, he was as excited to have almost unlimited access to Sandor now that they were living on the same property.

Sansa could see how touched Sandor was, that Rickon was thinking about him when he made some of these choices for his first house, and her guy squeezed Ric's shoulder.

Ric’s head bobbed. “Yeah, just thought you’d like some of the stuff I picked.”

"All good," Sandor had mumbled and then worked on getting everything properly sorted, even if it took an extra hour because Rickon had failed spectacularly to tell the movers which furniture was his.

Of course, it was the North, so the snow had come on moving day, and Sansa had heard more than one muttered curse about _moving in the fucking winter_ from Sandor.

He'd grumbled a lot, ordered his teammates around like a drill sergeant, and bellowed at the moving guys when they weren't careful.

Still, by late afternoon on the first day of December, Sansa was standing in her new brand new kitchen of the house they'd purchased together, sighing happily at the boxes that had to be unpacked.

Her family was sprawled around the great room, on couches and at tables. Someone had brought enough pizza and beer to keep the Wolves' players happy while Jeyne, Wyn and Dacey were pouring glasses of wine.

Bronn had come by and hugged her and then slapped Sandor on the back, declaring this place, “Way fucking better than that shithole you were squatting in down in Lannisport.”

“Wasn’t that fucking bad,” Sandor grumbled, put out at his oldest friend.

Bronn shook his head. “Let’s just say, you’ve traded way up man.”

Since Sandor agreed, he’d said nothing, but Sansa noted how pleased he looked, in their new home with all their friends and family there. The only people missing were Bran, her grandparents and Sandor’s parents. But Christmas was a few weeks away, and then everyone would be here.

Since the Ramsay and Theon thing still hadn't gone to court yet, Brienne was moving in with them, and even though she would be living here, Tormund was glued to her side.

Theon had been suspended from the league pending the outcome of his trial. He’d agreed to a plea bargain and after much soul searching and conversations with her family, Sansa had decided to speak on his behalf. She honestly didn’t believe he’d imagined anything from his problem would blowback on her, and he’d been in over his head - - way, way over his head. Sandor hadn’t been happy about her choice, but he’d understood and said he’d support her.

Still, for now, Theon’s future in hockey was up in the air and no one quite knew what might happen to him - or if he’d ever play in the league again.

As for Ramsay, he was still in jail, having been unable to make bail due to every single last asset of the Bolton’s being seized. There wasn’t a single person that cared that he was rotting away there, and Stannis promised to ensure he remained there until the trial began.

As Sansa pushed thoughts of Theon and Ramsay aside, she sipped her wine as she glanced at Sweetie, who was pressed up against Tormund’s leg. He had Brienne’s long legs over his lap, sitting beside her on one of the couches. They were officially a couple now, and Tormund strutted around like he'd won the lottery, having Brienne on his arm. Her friend wasn't as comfortable as Tormund appeared to be with the PDA's, but there was a happiness to Brienne that Sansa hadn't previously seen. It was incredible what the love of the right man did to a person, Sansa mused, taking a bite of cheese.

Jeyne was still dating Bronn, and though no one quite understood how they worked, the man was loyal as they came. He might never be one for weddings, babies and a house in the burbs, but he was devoted to Jeyne and made her happy.

Dacey and Robb were still in their sickly cute phase. They didn't get possession of their home until January, and already Sandor had growled at having to help them move – but Sansa knew he would do it. Sandor was the most loyal man she knew and devoted to family. He and Robb had become closer these past few weeks, and Sansa knew that they texted often. It was hard to describe how much Robb had grown up since Sansa had come home.

Her eldest brother had always been indulged as the firstborn, the hockey star, the apple of their parents’ eye. But now there was a maturity to him that had been missing, and Sansa knew it was a combination of Dacey demanding more from him, and their mother’s illness throwing everything into harsh reality.

Rickon kept popping in and out of their home and his, dragging Jon, or Robb or Sandor back to his place to help with setting things up or to show them something cool he’d bought. Every single person indulged him, although Arya had snorted.

“Are you sure you want him San? He’s like a puppy on crack.”

Sansa leaned against her little sister, slipping an arm around her waist. It was so nice having everyone here – so close she could see them whenever she wanted.

“I’m sure. He loves Sandor and it’s good for him.” Both girls looked at their Mom, knowing it would ease her burden to have Ric up here with Sandor and Sansa.

“You’re a good woman, Sansa,” Arya whispered, hugging her hard.

Cat had been weepy all morning and kept whispering that all her little birds were now out of the nest.

Sansa knew things weren't great with her mother's cancer. After Sandor had come home last week and all but collapsed in her arms, she'd known that something was up. He hadn’t said anything, but the man was a terrible liar and couldn’t hide a damn thing from her. When she’d stated that it was the cancer, he’d simply nodded and told her to go and spend time with her Mom. That has sent a shiver of fear down her spine. Seeing that, he pulled her into his arms.

“I’m never leaving you Sansa. Never. Through thick and thin, baby, I’m here.” She knew that and it was what made them so strong – this devotion they had to one another.

When the guys had been at practice, Sansa had gone over to the main house and gently demanded answers from her Mom. At first, Cat had resisted, and Sansa knew it had been an attempt to shield her. But when Sansa insisted, Cat finally broke down and told her everything. They'd wept together and then cuddled on the couch and Sansa could feel how frail her mother was and knew that this disease was taking a huge toll on Catelyn.

"You have to let me in Mama," she'd told Cat.

Sansa felt steady now, grounded in a way she'd never previously felt.

Her home, her life, her future was now North. She had come home for this very reason and found so much more than just herself. Her mother had always been her champion, her biggest supporter, and now, it was time for Sansa to pay it all back.

"Oh my sweet girl, I'm supposed to be the strong one."

"And you are. You're the glue that has held us all together, Mom. But I'm here now. And I have Sandor. Things are really good, and I came back to be with you; be with my family."

Cat had sighed and rubbed a hand down Sansa's back.

"I know. I'm so proud of the woman you are, the choices you've made Sansa. You have a wonderful man in your life and a thriving career, along with good friends. You are flourishing, and I don't want to do anything to dim your light right now. I don’t want to be a burden.”

Sansa bit back the tears hard.

"You are my Mom. Nothing is too much for you. And you could never, ever be a burden.”

The women were tangled together again, sobbing and clutching at each other until the worst of the storm had passed.

"So tell me how you're really feeling," Sansa said quietly after a time.

As was the way with so many mothers and daughters, there came a day when your daughter was no longer just your child – she suddenly became something so much more. She was all of a sudden one of your best friends, confidants and pillars of strength.

Today was that day for Catelyn and Sansa, and as Sansa sat there, in her family home, she willed her mother to confide in her, and let her bear some of this heavy burden.

Catelyn clutched Sansa's hand hard.

“Are you sure baby?”

Sansa knew that her mother had lost some so-called friends in this fight. She also knew that her mother shielded her father from the worst of it.

“I’m sure, Mom. Lay it all on me. I can take it.”

Cat took a deep breath and then the words spewed forward as if she’d been waiting for this moment.

"I'm so angry, Sansa. I'm so angry that this is happening to me, that it's happening now when my family is happy, and all of you are growing up and beginning your own families. I'm so afraid I won't get to see you marry your young man or meet my grandchildren. I'm worried about your father, and if the unthinkable happens, how he might go on. I ache that my own mother might have to bury her child, which is something no parent, no matter the age, should have to do. I'm just scared, Sansa. I have so much more I want to do in this life, and so much more I want to be around for. And to think that I might not ---"

Her voice ended in a sob, and Sansa cradled her mother's head against her chest, running her hands down her bony back. It was as if the cancer were whittling her mother down to nothing more than skin and bone.

For her part, Sansa wanted to weep and rage, to demand that this wasn't happening to her family. She wanted to make empty promises to her mother and beat this cancer, and then life would return to normal – that she would beat this disease and life would go on. That her mother would live to see her married, to be by her side as she laboured to bring her first grandchild into this world, and then would be part of that child’s life.

But those would only be empty words and platitudes and her mother deserved so much more.

“It’s so unfair, Mom.”

Both women knew that even if Cat won this fight, life would never quite be the same because this threw into stark relief, everything that was important in this life.

Family.

Friends.

Home.

Connection.

“Oh baby, it isn’t,” Cat said.

Ned and Sandor had found them, cuddled up together on the couch, discarded cups of tea and boxes of tissues between them, Sweetie with her head on Cat's lap.

When the men entered the room, there was a fresh round of tears, from the Starks as they all hugged.

Sansa watched Sandor hold his back, but then in that way they had of communicating without words, Sandor gave Sansa a nod. They had discussed briefly how they might make things a bit easier on her parents, given the business of the holiday season that was almost upon them.

"Mom, Dad, we'd like to discuss Christmas," Sansa said, standing beside Sandor.

Her parents went to protest; Catelyn loved Christmas and went all out when it came to the holiday. But her mother was exhausted, and this was something tangible that Sansa could do to help take away some of the enormous workload her mother put on herself when it came to Christmas, Stark style.

"Mama, we know how much you love having Christmas here. But this year, maybe we do it at our new home. Ric will be there, along with Sandor's parents. It just makes sense and," Sansa said, voicing, raising as she saw her Mom open her mouth to protest. "It will be nice to do it in my own home for once."

Cat huffed out a little sigh, and Sansa knew she hated to relinquish this tradition. Starks had always had Christmas at Winterfell – Cat even insisted that her entire family come here for the holiday.

"Mama, if it's too much, we can do it all here. But think about it. If it's at our place, you can just show up and be pampered like a queen."

Cat frowned and for a minute, Sansa was worried she was going to argue with her about this.

"Cancer fucking sucks," she exclaimed out loud, much to the astonishment of the three others in the room.

Ned's jaw dropped. He'd never heard his wife swear, and certainly not the f word.

Sansa couldn't help the little giggle that boiled up and out of her mouth, before she covered it with her hand, while Sandor rocked back on his heels grinning.

"Fucking rights, it sucks. But don't be so stubborn. Let the little bird have Christmas at her house. We can even put up her granny and grandpa there to get them out of your hair."

Cat snickered at how Sandor insisted on calling her mother, Granny.

That would not be happening when she had grandchildren, and now as good as any to let them know that.

"Fine. But don't you ever call me granny, Sandor Clegane," she said, wagging a finger at him.

He frowned, confusion marring his features. "Well, what do you wanna be called?"

Catelyn's chin tilted in the air, and Sansa was pleased to see the spark, the fire there. It meant her mother was planning on being around to see her grandchildren.

"They can call me Nana and Ned, Papa."

Sandor grinned.

"Fair enough."

Ned pulled his wife into his arms, cupping her face.

"Now, enough of this nonsense about you running yourself ragged. You're only job, my love, is to take care of you. Our children are adults and can handle some of what you are used to doing."

Cat opened her mouth to protest, and Ned stopped her with a kiss.

"Please," he said, voice ragged. "Sansa's wedding, and Bran's graduation. The playoffs. All the holidays. And yes, hopefully soon, grandchildren. We need you to fight, Cat. For you, for us, for the future. That's all that matters right now."

Sansa was trying to hold back the tears, wondering how there could be anything left in her body as she felt wrung dry, as she watched her parents. Their love was so solid, so true, so enduring and she knew she had that in the man whose arms she was currently wrapped up in.

Thank god Sandor was there to hold her up and give her some of his endless strength.

For her, for Sandor, family was everything.

When they finally left Winterfell, they'd wrangled a promise from Catelyn that she would ask for more help and tell her family what she needed in order to kick cancer's ass.

Now, standing in her new home, Sansa thought her Mom looked slightly better.

The doctor had adjusted her treatments, and while they were more intense, and the side effects more pronounced, Catelyn had a determination to see this fight through to its conclusion, whatever that conclusion might be.

Sansa also thought it helped that Ric was no longer living under their roof; he was now her responsibility, and while her mother might weep a bit at all her kids being grown and gone, Sansa knew how much a handful her youngest brother could be.

Her fiancé wandered back into their house, Ric hot on his heels, discussing the latest power play that they'd been going over in practice. She giggled a bit at how Rickon never left Sandor’s side. Serious level hero-worship going on. For his part, Sandor always gave Ric the time of day. He did now, before gently patting him on the back and then coming to find her.

Sansa loved it how the first thing Sandor did whenever they'd been apart was to look for her.

And he always made it a point to kiss her when they’d been apart; five minutes or five hours it didn’t much matter.

"How are you doing, little bird?" he asked, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

"I'm good. Really, good," she told him.

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah, big guy. My dreams are all coming true.”

Sandor grabbed a beer and then pulled her into the cradle of his massive arms, both of them content to just stand there and watch some of the people they loved best in this entire world in their new house.

They had each found their way North, for very different reasons and to one another. And even though they knew they'd face challenges in the weeks and months ahead, for this one afternoon, everything finally seemed absolutely perfect.

When Wyn and Dacey produced the bottles of champagne, Sansa cheered with the rest of them, happy to bask in the warmth that was bestowed upon them from these people that loved them. They might all have heavy heads come morning, but it would be worth it to celebrate this milestone, and how far they’d all come.

* * *

_ The Proposal  _

Sandor had spent the first three weeks of December working his ass off to make sure that everything was in place for tonight.

Tonight, in front of their home fans, a TV audience of millions, the entire fucking internet, their family and their friends, Sandor Clegane was going to propose to Sansa Stark in the most public way possible.

The hardest part about the entire proposal and planning it, had been keeping it a secret from Sansa. The woman could read him like a book and had known he was up to something.

He tried to meet with Wyn and Ned and the rink people when he was at practice, but of course, Sansa had shown up one day to watch practice and seen him huddled with the tech crew for the rink and had narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“You know her Wyn. If I don’t come up with a convincing lie, she’s gonna figure this out.”

Wyn drummed her fingers on the table, knowing it was true.

“Yeah, she’s a nosy one, that’s for sure.”

They sat in silence for a time, until Wyn’s eyes brightened.

"Why don't we tell her that we're doing a big thank you for how much exposure she'd brought to the Wolves'," Wyn suggested when Sandor grumbled that he wouldn't have a fiancé if he kept lying to her for much longer.

Sandor frowned.

"What do you mean?"

This is why he'd come to Wyn. The woman was a marketing genius – and she knew Sansa. Sandor still didn’t understand how women’s minds worked some days. Wyn waved a manicured hand.

"We’ll tell San that she's doing a ceremonial puck drop for that home game and that the Wolves' wanted to acknowledge Sansan and how much you guys have meant to the team. That way, she'll know she needs to be here, and she'll know that a bit of planning has to happen. This is perfect!" Wyn cried, clapping her hands.

As Sandor thought about it, he realized it might work – and it would buy him some leeway with why he was constantly spending so much extra time at the rink these days.

Even Wyn had been impressed with his ideas, and she'd wiped a tear when he'd explained what he'd wanted.

“Sandor she is going to be blown away.”

Satisfied he had one of Sansa’s best friend’s approval, they’d worked in earnest to make it happen.

His proposal was going to be fucking epic, and every single person in Westeros would be talking about it for years to come.

Wyn had texted Sansa that day, asking if she'd meet them at the rink. When Wyn explained what they had been working on, Sansa had blushed bright red and sputtered it was unnecessary, but secretly, Sandor knew she was pleased. He could only hope that she wasn't disappointed that it was a proposal he was planning and not a thank you.

"You sure you're alright with this?" she'd asked him that night in bed. She was naked, sated and curled up in his arms, just where he wanted her to be.

"I'm fine, little bird."

She twisted to look at him. "Because I know you don't love the spotlight. And these games are televised, and this will be a big deal."

Sandor bit back the grin. She had no idea. All of Westeros was gonna see his woman get the proposal of a lifetime. Sandor had even spoken to Pod, who was working with Wyn to coordinate all the social media bullshit Sandor didn't understand. The man had been bouncing when Sandor walked him through his plans and had assured him that Sansa would love it.

"It's fine, Sansa. Wyn was going over some of the numbers and explained some stuff to me. We've made a real difference in their sales of merchandise and tickets. And the ratings for the Wolves' games on TV lead all teams. It's because of you, babe, with your crown of Queen of social media. That deserves to be recognized.”

Sansa held his gaze, and Sandor swore internally, sweating and praying she didn't dive too much deeper into it their half-formed plan. He was a shit liar when it came to her, and he'd fold like a house of cards if she pressed him.

Thankfully, she just nodded thoughtfully.

"Alight. If you're good with it, so am I."

From that moment on, Sansa had encouraged him to spend time with Wyn to work on what she was calling their ‘special night.’

Blessedly, her work life was as busy as his. She was focused on getting her company set up. She’d often told him regretfully that she wished she could help more, but Sandor had reassured her that he had it well under control.

With Royce now in the North, he and Sansa had spent several days looking for office and warehouse space. The warehouse had been easily found within days, but the office not so much until finally, something had become available. When she texted him the address Sandor had been excited to realize how close it was to the rink, and he'd walked over after practice a few days before the proposal to check out the space she’d found.

Following her directions, he entered the building and told the security guy on the first floor where he was going.

The man obviously knew him because he fist-bumped him and said, "Man, we love having the Hound in the North. Go Wolves'."

Even after a decade in the league, it never got old when he met true fans and saw their love for him and his talent. It was why he loved the game so much. 

Sandor grinned.

"Thanks, man." He fist-bumped the guy back.

"You're my favourite player," the young man had continued, awe in his eyes.

Sandor always had a few tickets on reserve at the rink for just such occasions so he took out a card, scribbled his name and number on it, and wrote down the name of the woman who worked at the front office.

"Call her, and she'll hook you up with some tickets to a game," Sandor said.

"Are you serious, dude? Fucking awesome," the guard said, reverence in his voice. He was looking at the card in awe.

“Very serious. Go Wolves,” Sandor said, leaving a happy man behind as he made his way to the elevators. The entire building was swanky as fuck. Trust Sansa to find the poshest building in the North to begin to build her empire.

Sandor was still grinning when he got off on the top floor, thinking about the young guy, whose day he’d made.

This was the shit that he liked about his celebrity status – making some average guy’s day. Those were the people that paid his salary; they bought his jersey, tickets to games, cheered for him as they drank expensive beer in the stands. Sandor knew he owed everything to the fans, and he loved paying it back whenever he could. He’d make sure to hook them up with a pre-game tour as well – go all in.

When he stepped out of the elevator and into the top floor, he’d expected to find offices. Instead he found Sansa in the middle of a huge, empty, cavernous space that didn't look anything like what he expected.

"Isn't it great?" she gushed.

Sandor just saw a big space with nothing in it. He had no idea why the little bird looked so damn happy but happy she did.

"Ummmm yeah, awesome, babe."

Royce snickered as Sansa twirled around.

"This is perfect! I can start from scratch and do exactly what I want. Ohhhhh, I forgot to tell you that I hired my Chief Operating Officer, Sandor," she said.

She was speaking a mile a minute, so Sandor knew that this was something she was excited about.

"Who?"

"Her name is Melisandre, and she comes highly recommended," Sansa began, speaking quickly. Sandor just let her words wash over him, listening with half an ear. It wasn't that he didn't care, but so much of her world, he just didn't get, and so as long as she was happy, so was he. He’d support her in any way he could.

When they'd moved into their new home, Sansa had set up both a home office and a proper makeup room where she could shoot her YouTube videos. She'd been working night and day with Pod to get ahead as she put it, so she could get on a more consistent release schedule.

One night, when they'd been in their new theatre room, she'd tried to explain how much work it was to shoot the video, edit it and then post it and how she wanted her fans to have something they could rely on.

She continued to grow on both her IG and YouTube platforms, and Sandor was sometimes overwhelmed with just how successful she was.

Between the Wolves' best season in years and her growing legion of fans, there wasn't anywhere they could go in the North where they weren't recognized almost immediately. It made Sandor even gladder that they'd chosen the house they had – with its security gate and winding road up the mountain they weren’t that easily accessible. It had become a true retreat for the both of them and hadn't taken either of them long to settle in now that they were here.

Of course, it also meant seeing Rickon a hell of a lot more.

The rookie came by the house at least once a day, and often, he and Sandor carpooled into town for practice. Sandor didn't mind – for the first time, it felt like he had a younger brother, and Rickon was pretty cool about things.

He'd figured out that Sandor had asked Sansa to marry him within a week of them living together, and he'd uncovered Sandor's proposal within days of Sandor meeting with Wyn.

Still, he was surprisingly good at keeping a secret.

It had been Ric that had suggested that Sandor bring the whole team and their family into it.

"Honestly, dude, they'll totally be on board. And this is epic, man. You're gonna need all hands on deck to pull this off."

Sandor grunted at that thought. They hadn't told anyone about their engagement, but now Robb and Ric both knew, and Wyn. How much longer could they keep it a secret, especially with what Sandor was planning? And Sansa would understand, right?

So Sandor had taken Ric’s advice and lopped all the Wolves’ players into his proposal. There was stunned silence and then the entire room erupted. There was some good-natured teasing, a lot of back pats, some manly hugs. But overall, the team was all in and they had done whatever Sandor or Wyn had needed.

Now the night was here.

Sandor’s parents had flown in and were staying at Winterfell.

Stannis had come with Shireen, Renly and Loras.

Minisa and Hoster had even made the journey.

Even Podrick had come North to witness this in person.

Everything was set, and he just had to keep his wits about him. Sandor knew he wouldn’t sleep through his pre-game nap, but he still went through his routine, as to not throw Sansa off. If she came home early and found him pacing, she’d know something was up.

When she crawled in beside him, he was surprised to see her, but his arms came up to wrap around her.

“Hey big guy.”

“I thought you had to work?”

“Nope. I took the afternoon off. I wanted to be here for you. I know that this isn’t totally your thing, Sandor. But I totally think it’s awesome.”

Somehow, despite half the fucking North seeming to know about the proposal, Sansa still hadn’t figured it out. And now, because she knew that this wasn’t his forte, she was here, with him. He knew how busy she was, but still, she’d taken the time to be here for him. Gods, he couldn’t wait to see what she thought about what he’d cooked up.

Sandor leaned down to nuzzle her neck, loving how she arched back into him. Just having her here with him, he was achingly hard. He pressed his cock into her ass, his big hand skirting down her slim stomach and underneath the lacy panties, she had on. His fingers found her wet and wanting and he knew just how to stroke her to have her coming apart in his arms within minutes.

“Sandor, god,” she moaned, turning and kissing him hard.

His eyes never left her, as she whipped off her tank top and somehow shimmied out of her tiny panties and then she attacked. Sandor met her, kiss for kiss, touch for touch, as Sansa nipped at his neck.

“Is this alright? I know you like to sleep,” she whispered into his ear.

He was hard as fucking stone. Fucking hells, she’d better be planning on putting him out of his misery by sinking that sweet core down onto his raging hard-on.

“Yes,” he said, thrusting his powerful hips upwards. There was no mistaking his intent, and Sansa grinned, gripping him hard and then lining their bodies up so she could sink down on him.

The feeling of joining with her like this never got old; and he hoped it never would. There was nothing quite like Sansa in this entire world, and joining with her, even if it made him sound like some pathetically whipped fool, was like coming home. The woman owned him – heart, soul, body and mind.

“Fuck,” he ground out as she rode him hard, like how she knew he liked it.

That was the magic of being with someone long term, Sandor was discovering. You knew what your partner liked, how they needed to be touched, how to get them off. While some men might delight in the chase and someone new each night, Sandor revelled in how intimately he and Sansa knew one another. It was why he had no qualms when she started to shake, her body tightening and her walls fluttering around him, to reach down and brush his thumb against her clit, knowing exactly how to make her detonate on him. 

“Sannnnnnndoooorr,” she moaned, drawing his name out as she dug her nails into his chest.

He grunted and gripped her hips hard, pistoning into her again and again until his balls tightened and then shot rope after rope of semen deep inside her. Maybe even better than sex, was the way she cuddled up on his broad chest afterwards, knowing he could support her weight. She’d often spent time tracing his tats or playing with his chest hair, and the sheer intimacy of these moments still stole his breath.

“I love you so much,” she eventually said, tilting her head up so their eyes met. He’d been drifting in and out, knowing he’d have to get up soon enough and get ready for tonight.

Those words though drew his attention right back to her. His big hand came to the back of her neck, massaging it and holding her close.

“Sansa, you’re the best fucking thing in my life,” he told her truthfully. Each day he woke up with her nestled up beside him he thanked whatever god was looking out for him that he’d found her.

When they eventually dressed, Sansa decided on wearing his jersey, with skinny jeans and boots. She had her hair styled in a high ponytail and enough make-up that he was stunned speechless by how effortlessly gorgeous she was. He was in a Tom Ford suit again, deep blue with a red tie.

He posed with her for the obligatory photo in front of the huge Christmas tree that had gone up in their great room. This being the last game before Christmas break, Sandor knew that everyone would be scoping out the Christmas décor of Sansan, but he could hardly blame them. Sansa had worked her ass off to make their new home look amazing, and he was, for the first time in his entire life, looking forward to the Christmas break.

He’d have his fiancé, his family and his dog all in his new home.

Before they left the house, Sandor slipped the ring box into his pocket and then helped Sansa with her winter gear, and escorted her to his big SUV.

Rickon was driving himself to the rink tonight, knowing how big a night it was, and that afterwards, they’d want privacy.

Sansa was chattering away about her latest numbers in December, with some of her make-up selling out, and more of it almost gone. They were a few days away from the big day, and Sandor knew that last-minute shoppers would likely gobble it up. Especially after tonight.

When they got to the rink, he passed her off to Jeyne and Brienne. They were taking seats at ice level, behind the bench, which was good, since the rest of their family was up in the luxury box. But because of what Sandor had planned, and because of her pre-game obligations, Sansa was herded to her father’s office beside the dressing room to ‘wait for the right moment.’

Finally, the warm-up was done, the Zamboni had cleaned the ice and the pre-game ceremony was about to start. Sansa was waiting in the hallway, still, none the wiser as the guys piled out of the dressing room led onto the ice by Tormund. Sandor was the last player out, and he motioned for her to walk with him up to ice level.

“Nervous baby?” she asked and he shook his head. Oddly enough, he wasn’t.

Yeah, he was putting himself way out there tonight, but he knew Sansa loved him.

“Nope.”

“Good,” she said, flashing him a grin. He stepped onto the ice, nodding at Ned who was holding the ring and did his warm-up, leaving Sansa by the bench. She was holding what she thought was the ceremonial puck for the puck drop. Little did she know. All the guys were grinning, and Sandor wondered if she’d notice, but she seemed content to chat with her Dad as they warmed up.

When everything was in place, the Public Announcer called out the starting lineup. As normal, the cheer for him was huge. Because of tonight’s special ceremony, there was a long blue carpet rolled out on the ice for her to stand on. A hush fell over the rink, as the five starters for each team lined up, and then the building went dead silent.

Sandor risked one more glance at her, and she gave him a thumbs up. Then he looked to the media booth and gave a little nod.

“Would Sansa Stark, daughter of legendary Wolves’ player and current head coach, Ned Stark, please come to center ice.”

Sansa waved and grinned as she stepped onto the carpet, a natural when the spotlight was on her. She came to center ice, gripping the puck, as Sandor skated up to her. He towered over her in his skates, and she looked to see where the other team captain was. The other team had been briefed and no one from the Eyrie team skated forward.

“Tonight, you here in our home rink, and those of you watching at home, are invited to join Wolves’ Captain Sandor Clegane in a very special ceremony.”

Sansa’s eyes flew up to his and he winked at her.

She reached out and gripped his arm. “Sandor, what’s going on?”

“Just watch, little bird.”

“The Wolves’ family was pleased to welcome Sandor the Hound Clegane, all-star and top defenseman to their team earlier this year. While his presence on the ice has been felt by all, and the Wolves’ are currently enjoying their best season ever, it is his off-ice relationship that had paid huge dividends for the Wolves and the North. Known affectionally as Sansan to their legion of followers, Sandor Clegane and Sansa Stark have set Westeros on fire with their love story.”

The rink went silent again and then the huge overhead screen lit up, with a montage of their top pictures, interspersed with private video clips that they, their friends, or their family had taken. Someone had stitched it all together so that it told their love story for everyone to see.

Sandor felt her shaking and he leaned down. “Breath little bird.”

“Oh Sandor,” she said, opening crying at watching what he’d put together. When it ended, even Sandor felt the power of the moment.

There was complete darkness in the rink, with some shouts and whistles. Sandor swore he heard someone say _SANSAN FOREVER!_ Now for the big moment. This had taken the most amount of work and was the trickiest. Twenty thousand people were now going to help him pop the question to Sansa.

A spotlight came on, highlighting the end of the rink where the visitor goalie was, and suddenly the entire section held up their placard that each person had been given when they’d found their seats.

SANSA --- her name was spelled out for all to see. It was huge. 

The spotlight move to the next section.

STARK

WILL

YOU

MARRY

ME

AND

BE

SANSAN

FOREVER?

By the time they got to the last section, the entire rink was lit back up and Sandor had dropped to one knee, the ring box open, gazing up at Sansa.

For once, she appeared utterly stunned. The entire rink was silent, every single eye focused on them.

“Hey, little bird,” he said, drawing her attention back down to him. He hoped like hell he hadn’t miscalculated.

“Oh my god, Sandor. This is…” she was waving a hand and crying. “This is incredible. No one has ever…” She couldn’t even finish her sentence.

Sandor settled then and gave her a cocky, half-grin.

“Will you marry me Sansa?” he asked.

He saw when her eyes finally landed on the ring and him down on his knees in full hockey gear in front of her.

“OH MY GOD, a million times yes!” she screamed and then threw herself into his arms. He took her weight and then rose to his feet, swinging her around on the ice. The rink erupted into a huge cheer, with catcalls and whistles and music pumping. The guys that had been lined up had started to skate around again, giving them a moment.

“You are crazy, Sandor. Who does this?” she said in awe.

“You like it?” he asked, still unsure if it had been too much. But she lived her life in the spotlight and he knew that people loved to be part of their story.

“Oh Sandor. This was incredible,” she said, sniffling. He finally put her down and then slid the huge blue diamond onto her third finger, pleased as fuck at what it looked like there. Now every single fucker would know that she was his.

He couldn’t help himself as he leaned down to kiss her, intending for it to be something quick. His woman had other ideas as she gripped his neck and kissed the hell out of him.

“Happy?”

She nodded. “Ecstatic,” she responded.

“Alright, well now I gotta go play hockey,” he groused a little bit. He was hard, again, and honestly just wanted to buried balls deep inside her, but he had to do his job.

Sansa had a huge grin on her face as he finally let her go. She patted his butt and then laughed as the crowd went wild, and she walked back towards her Dad. When she got close, she all but ran towards him, and Ned hugged her hard.

“You knew?” she asked him.

He rumbled out a laugh. “Baby, everyone knew. Sandor’s been planning this for weeks.”

Sansa’s heart felt like it was going to explode. Her wonderful man had given her, given them, the most perfect public proposal. She knew it would have all been captured – on video and social media, and one day, their kids could watch it. For now though, she was still in a daze as she made her way back to Jeyne and Brienne.

Both women enfolded her in their arms and then Sansa started to shake, looking down at her hand.

It was real.

Everyone knew.

She was engaged to Sandor Clegane.

He’d claimed her in the most public way, and in a way that he knew she would love and that would benefit their lives. She looked at Brienne.

“If it’s all the same to you, can we go find my Mom?” she asked her bodyguard.

Brienne smiled. “Of course. Mini and Hoster are here, along with Mama B and Addam.”

Sansa’s sniffed back the tears. Of course he’d brought them all. For a man that had such a brutal childhood, he understood better than most what was truly important.

As she walked through the rink, she could hear the play going on down at ice level, but for once, she wasn’t focused on the game. Instead, her mind was with the incredible man and the promise that he’d made her in front of the entire world.

Then she heard the horn go, and the huge cheer and began to run towards the suite where their families were waiting. Somehow, in four short months, she and Sandor had found one another – and they’d created something wonderful. Her family, her pack was expanding, and she couldn’t wait to begin the rest of her life, as Sandor’s wife and the mother of his children.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the proposal

* * *

_ December 22nd, Wintertown Arena – Sansa  _

Sansa could hear the roar of the crowd as the play began. It seemed like the public proposal had fired up the hometown for this last game before the short Christmas break began, and she couldn't help, nor did she want to stop the huge grin that spread across her face. Glancing down at her finger, Sansa trembled as she stopped to look at it.

It was so big was her first thought, and she loved the colour. She'd never seen another ring quite like it, and she knew what a statement it would make. More, it was what the ring represented – the promise of a life with Sandor.

Suddenly needing to see her mother, she broke into a run, rushing towards the elevators that would whisk her and Brienne upstairs and to their families.

The guard at the bank of elevators just grinned at her as she rushed by.

"Awesome, Ms. Stark," he said, giving her a wink.

Sansa blushed but nodded.

"It was, wasn't it?"

The man, who was named Fred, just shrugged.

"That's our Hound. He's one of us now."

There was such pride for Sandor in the man's voice that Sansa's eyes teared. Sandor was one of theirs now, and this only sealed the deal.

She clutched at her stomach as they were whooshed upstairs, and then stepped outside into the main hallway that led to the luxury suites.

Here, another guard was grinning at her and opened the door to her family's box.

"Sansa!" came the cry as she was overwhelmed by them.

Mini was there first, demanding to see the ring, commenting on what good taste Sandor had.

"I've always liked him. Gruff around the edges, but the way he looks at you, you know that man will be loyal."

Hoster gave her a big hug and kiss, congratulating her and Sandor. "He's a good man. Solid and dependable" was her grandfather's assessment that made it sound like she was buying a car and not a husband.

When she was done with the Tully's, she was swept into Mama B's arms, and Sansa didn't know who was crying more.

"Oh, I'm so proud of my boy," she said tearfully, then gasped at the ring. "And who knew he had such good taste." Sansa had a sneaking suspicion on who'd helped Sandor with the ring, but that could wait a few minutes.

Addam was next, and as his firm, comforting arms came around hers, she kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "Welcome to the family, Dad."

The man's arms hugged her harder.

"Sansa," he barely choked out. When they pulled back, he cupped her cheeks. "You are everything we have ever wanted, not only for Sandor but as a daughter."

Deeply touched, Sansa hugged him again, and they swayed slightly. She was so excited about her life with Sandor, to be his wife, but to also welcome these awesome people into her life as a family. It wasn't hard to imagine the Marbrand's as amazing grandparents.

When she left Addam's arms, Pod was next. Her dear friend swung her around, chatting animatedly about how they were everywhere on social media.

"Sansa, I'm serious. This thing between the two of you is huge. Huge. I'm fielding calls from some of the top late-night show hosts that want you guys to come on their show."

Sansa just laughed.

"Can you believe all of this?" She felt like her face might just split from how happy she was.

Pod shook his head. "Nah, it's nuts. Like, crazy, Sansa. But awesome."

Since she knew he meant it, it wasn't hard to give him another squeeze. "I can't wait for you to meet Sandor. He's a great guy."

Pod blushed a bit and then stammered, "Ummm, he invited me to spend Christmas. With you guys."

Sansa's heart just about burst. Pod was an orphan, having lost both his parents when he was young. Trust her fiancé to truly understand that no one should be alone at Christmas time. Sansa hugged him hard.

"I'm so glad, Pod."

Relieved, he gave a crooked grin. "Ric said I could bunk in with him. He's pretty proud of his little house."

Sansa laughed and shook her head. "Trust me, stay with us. I love Ric, but he's a total slob."

Finally, Sansa turned to see her brother Bran, who had been away at university. At twenty-one Bran looked so much older than the last time Sansa had seen him. He was so different than the rest of the Starks – quiet and reserved. He followed her on all her social media accounts, and they texted a lot. For some reason, he and Ric were super close even though they had almost nothing in common. Seeing him there, looking older and more mature than she possibly could have imagined, he gave her a slight little shrug and a smile.

"Hey, San," he said in that quiet voice of his.

She threw herself into his arms, sobbing his name. He was taller than her – the tallest of all the Starks, and yet so slim, whereas Robb and Ric both had Ned's hearty northern bones.

"Bran, when did you get back?"

He chuckled into her ear. "Did you honestly think Sandor would let me miss this?"

Sansa hardly knew what to say. It seemed her guy had thought of everything. When Sansa and Bran had parted, there was just one person left.

Her mom.

The smile on Cat's face was something that Sansa would remember for the rest of her life.

"Mom," Sansa barely choked out, before she was in Cat's arms. Sansa was gentle with her, feeling how frail her mother was. But there was so much love in that hug, that Sansa felt it all the way to her soul.

"Hello, my darling. Looks like you found yourself a keeper," she whispered into her ear.

"I did. Oh god, I did, Mom. He's my guy. He's going to be my husband. I'm going to be a bride, Mama," Sansa sobbed softly as she and Cat giggled together.

Cat cupped Sansa's face, her eyes looking brighter than they had in a long time.

"So, when do you want to get married?" Cat asked.

"July. After the season is done," Sansa replied immediately.

Cat nodded. "Perfect."

Sansa worried her lip. "And I was sort of hoping we could do it at Winterfell. I mean, I know it's a lot and everything, but if you and Dad would let us…" She trailed off.

Cat shook her head lovingly. "Do you honestly think that there is a world that we wouldn't want that to happen?"

Sansa grinned.

Then they were surrounded by everyone, with Mama B and Mini both contributing their 'suggestions' for the wedding in increasingly loud sentences. Secretly, Sansa thought the two women liked to go toe to toe. Mama B also deliberately did it to help distract Mini from Cat, which everyone appreciated.

Sansa had the wherewithal to look at the scoreboard and realized that the Wolves' were up by two. It was already the second period, and she'd been so distracted with the news of their engagement and the initial wedding plans.

"Who scored?" she asked Bran.

"Ummmm, Robb and Bronn."

The two of them had taken seats near the front of the box, with Pod on the other side. Pod was really enjoying the game, and Sansa was happy he was here.

"This is great, Sansa. I totally get why you guys love it," he said.

Somehow, even watching the game, he'd managed to scroll through the two phones that he used to manage all her social media accounts. Sansa took a picture of her and Bran and posted it to her IG account, and people went wild, seeing her ring up close. Then they flashed her face on the jumbotron, and the crowd inside the arena went nuts when it went between her and Sandor that was down on the ice.

Her soon to be husband just winked and the crowd roared, and Sansa couldn't wipe the smile from her face. The entire night was just perfection, and she was going to bask in it for as long as possible.

* * *

_ After the game, The Sin Bin – Sandor _

Sandor flew through the game as if he were barely gassed. Every hit, every stride, every pass just worked. It helped that it seemed like every other shot on the big screen that hung above the rink was of Sansa, and their families all co-mingled up in their booth.

He loved seeing her so happy, especially because he'd been instrumental in putting that smile there. The guys had fun poking at him, razzing him about the huge proposal, but he let it roll off his back. Sandor didn't care. He'd made Sansa happy, and that was all that mattered. That and the fact that every single person in Westeros knew that she was his.

He honestly didn't give a fuck if that made him a caveman, because she was his and he wanted every fucker to know it.

When the game was over, Robb demanded they all go to Dacey's bar, and Sandor knew there was no way to get out of it. Besides, these people were his family and friends, and they just wanted to celebrate them.

Sansa, Jeyne, Brienne, Wyn, Pod, and Bran were waiting outside of the dressing room, as Sandor emerged with the guys. Ric was disappointed he was a week away from being nineteen and able to drink, but Bran said he'd head home with him. Sandor smirked as Rickon ran up to Sansa to see her ring and congratulate her, and then promised that he'd let Sweetie out when he and Bran got home.

Robb, upon spotting his younger brother, and hurried over to swing Bran up and into his arms, as the rest of the guys swarmed Sansa.

Tormund, that fucker, had her in a huge bear hug, yelling about gingers and being kissed by fire, while Jon gave her a gentle hug. Even Bronn gave her a massive hug, and Gendry and Arya were yelling about how insane the proposal had been. Finally, though, they were done with her, and she was standing there, alone.

Their eyes locked, and she ran towards him, and he could do nothing more than open his arms as she jumped into them. Her long legs wrapped around his mid-section as their lips met. He had his hands in her hair and felt her nails dig into his shoulder as she slanted her mouth and deepened the kiss.

Sandor heard himself growl, his cock hard and aching as she wiggled. He gripped her ass, kneading at her and pressing her closer to him. She groaned, and Sandor was a moment away from trying to find a position where she could grind herself on him, so she could have her release, when the clapping and whistling reminded him that they were not alone – and that they had an avid audience.

He smirked at the blush on her face.

"Guess we should go to the bar," he whispered in her ear. "Time enough for this later."

Time enough for this for the rest of their lives.

"Yup," she said, shimmying down him. He knew the little minx had purposely rubbed herself against him provocatively.

He groaned and grabbed her hand, pulling her back against his chest, noting how awesome his ring looked on her finger. He couldn't help himself, as he ran a finger over it. He'd never thought he'd ever have a chance at any of this.

Sansa was like a dream girl – that unattainable woman that men like him were not supposed to ever have a chance with. And yet he knew she loved him; all of him. The ugly parts, the hidden parts, the parts that he hadn't shown anyone else. This woman was going to be his wife, and if everything worked out, the mother of his children.

The group was in high spirits, and when they entered the _Sin Bin_, a huge cheer went up for them. Sansa might blush, but Sandor knew she loved it.

A variety of women swarmed her, all of them wanting to gush at her ring and the proposal, while several of his teammates and even some of the regular patrons clapped him on the back.

More than one guy complained about how high Sandor had raised the bar when it came to romantic proposals, but he didn't care. Let them figure out what their woman wanted – he'd fucking delivered when it came to Sansa. He was content to nurse a beer, sitting back and watching as his fiancé held court with her friends as they chatted about dresses, venues, flowers and food.

Robb had been right when he'd said that this wedding was going to be a huge event, and yet, Sandor wasn't bothered in the least. He planned on doing this only once, so he'd let Sansa do whatever she wanted.

Speaking of Robb, he'd somehow found himself back behind the bar, helping Dacey. She was shaking her head at him, but Sandor could see how pleased she was that Robb seemed to be as invested in her business as she was. He had a good feeling about those two, and Robb had confirmed that he was planning on asking Dacey to marry him at the big Stark family hockey game that they played each Christmas Eve afternoon on the rink that was cleared off on the lake.

Sandor couldn't wait to see Sansa on skates and to just hang out with their friends and family over the holidays. Both Jeyne and Bronn were staying in Wintertown, having no real family of their own, so they would be there as well.

Somehow, Tormund had convinced Brienne to take him home to Tarth, to meet her father, and they were leaving first thing in the morning. Sandor wouldn't be surprised if Tormund had something up his sleeve when it came to Brienne, but the big woman kept him on his toes, so who knew if she'd ever say yes to him. Either way, they were sitting close together, with Tormund stroking a hand down her shoulder, and gazing at her in adoration every few moments.

Sandor was pleased to see that Pod was sitting with Tormund and Bronn, looking both awestruck and slightly horrified by whatever was coming out of their mouths. Since both men were in the long term, monogamous relationships, Sandor wasn't too worried.

His phone chimed, and he grinned as Bran was seated on Ric's couch, cuddled up with Sweetie. That dog loved the Starks. Speaking of dogs, Sandor scanned the bar and spotted Jeyne. He ambled over to her and leaned down so she could hear him over the music.

"Is everything ready?" Sandor asked Jeyne.

She grinned. "Yup. He's at my house, and he's amazing, Sandor. He's going to get along so well with Sweetie, and Sansa is going to love him."

About a week ago, Jeyne had contacted him to let him know that they'd rescued another blue nose Pitbull – this one a male, who was only six months old. He hadn't yet been trained to fight, but he had been kept in squalid conditions, akin to a puppy mill. His skin was in bad shape, and he was mal-nourished, and Jeyne had immediately thought of Sansa and Sandor when she'd seen him.

At first, Sandor had been a bit reluctant to add another dog to their already crazy life, but he'd snuck over to the shelter with Sweetie, and she'd taken one look at Harley and had squiggled enough to let Sandor know that this was happening. It had been almost impossible for Sandor to leave him at the shelter, but he had been convinced to do so by Jeyne and give him to Sansa as one of her Christmas presents.

The rest of the stuff he'd gotten her was already wrapped and hidden and waiting to be put under the huge tree that was in their living room. Of course, they didn't have just one tree – they had three, and Sandor felt like Christmas had puked all over their house. Shaking his head from that thought, he scanned the bar to see Sansa chatting with Wyn and Jon, along with Arya and Gendry.

He grabbed a glass of water and took up a spot by Bronn and Tormund, content to just be with his friends and happy no one was making a bigger spectacle of their engagement than a few jokes and winks.

Eventually, Sansa came to sit on his lap, snuggled deep into his arms.

"Sleepy little bird?" he asked and felt her nod.

"Yup. We have a busy day tomorrow."

Sandor had been informed that he was required to help prepare their house for the upcoming few days, with the parties and dinners Sansa had planned. Mama B was thrilled to be helping, and his parents would be moving into their house tomorrow morning – tonight, they were at Winterfell as their coming had been a surprise for Sansa.

"Come on, future wife," he said, gently tugging her to her feet.

Her eyes sparkled as she laid her hand with the giant blue diamond on his chest.

"I'm going to be Sansa Clegane," she said, a bit awestruck. For a moment, doubt crept in. Sandor knew the Starks were like modern-day royalty, and his name was shit. Then Sansa turned to the entire bar and yelled happily, "I'M GOING TO BE SANSA CLEGANE!!!!!"

A roar went up, and Sandor couldn't help but sweep her into his arms. This woman slayed him. She was proud of that fact and excited, and it threatened to undo him.

As they walked outside, the snow began to fall in earnest, blanketing the North in white, as the Christmas lights that Dacey had strung along the outside of the bar blinked brightly in the night.

Sansa twirled in the snow, catching flakes on her tongue, while Sandor watched her.

She was magic, this woman and he couldn't help but scoop her up and twirl with her. Never in all his days would he have thought he'd be that guy – but Sansa made it all seem less silly.

He held her hand as they drove home together, ready to start this next chapter in their lives and excited for what the future held.

* * *

_ December 23rd, Hill House– Sansa _

Sansa was up and out of bed the next morning before Sandor could make love with her. She loved her fiancé, adored him, truly, but she had a list a mile long and a million things to do today. He groaned and tried to pull her back into their huge bed, but she shook her head.

"If you're not so lazy, we can have shower sex," she sing-songed as she glided into their huge master bathroom.

She heard a thump, then Sandor curse as he scrambled to follow her. She was giggling softly when his large body was suddenly there. He reached over her and adjusted the water just as she liked, then dragged her under with him, his mouth fused to whatever part of her body he could find.

Sansa simply allowed herself to float away to be loved by this man. Half an hour later, thoroughly cleaned and hungry, she braided her hair as she made her way into the kitchen. Sansa had mastered making coffee and bagels – and that was about it. She'd almost resigned herself to the fact that she would never be the cook that Mama B or Mordane was when Sandor joined her.

"Incoming," he said, looking at his phone.

Knowing that could mean anyone, and not fussed at all, Sansa hummed happily as she puttered around the kitchen, making her first cup of coffee and glancing down at the grocery list.

First through her door were Bran, Pod and Ric, who'd kept Sweetie all night. When Sweetie saw them, she wiggled her entire body, as Sandor scooped her up in his arms, her tongue licking at him.

"Whoa," Pod said, watching the muscles in Sandor's arms ripple and stretch. Sansa smirked.

"Yup," she said, taking in the show. There was something about this man, all tattooed up and with the dog in his arms that just did it for her. Then Pod's eyes widened as he glanced around her house.

"Sansa, this place is incredible!" he gushed. She linked arms with one of her best friends, dragging Bran along for the tour as well. When they were out of earshot of Ric, who was asking Sandor something about the game last night, Sansa asked both Bran and Pod if they were okay with staying with Ric.

"It's his first place, on he’s on his own, and I know he can be kind of a slob," she muttered, worriedly. She loved her brother, but she had no idea the state of his house, and she hadn't known that Pod was coming North.

Both Bran and Pod laughed and reassured her that Ric had cleaned and that they were fine. Finished with the tour and telling both of them they could use the pool whenever they wanted, Sansa went back upstairs in time for Sandor to tell her he was going down the hill to pick up his parents. She could see the nerves and excitement rolling off him – this was the first time they'd see their new house in more than pictures and Facetime videos.

She gave him a lingering kiss and then went back to her lists, losing herself in her planning until she heard the growl of the SUV's hearty engine outside. Wiping her hands nervously on her pants, she waited at the entrance to greet them.

Mama B did not disappoint. She gushed. She praised. She enthusiastically asked to see everything.

Sansa freaking loved her. When she showed them their guest room, Sansa was pleased to see that Sandor's very verbose mother had finally lost whatever words she seemed to have in endless supply, and instead, she wiped away a tear and hugged Sansa hard.

"You've made such a lovely home, dear," she told Sansa, who brimmed with pride. She was glad she'd gone ahead and hired someone to decorate. One day she might have time to take care of those things by herself, but this year things had been crazy, and it helped so much just to have it all done for her. She'd had just to point and chose what she'd wanted, and Sandor hadn't batted an eye at her choices. Her guy was great that way, and she loved him for it.

Within the hour, Addam had his slippers on and was sitting in the great room, a cup of coffee in his hand and his iPad on his lap, logged into their WiFi. He'd made himself thoroughly at home, as Ric, Pod, and Bran joined them in the kitchen.

"So, here's what's still outstanding," Sansa said, looking at those in her home.

"Sandor and I are going to go to town and do all the food and booze shopping. Pod, if you'd like, you can come with us. Bran, if you are feeling up for it, the downstairs just needs a bit of tidying, and then Mama B needs some help making Christmas cookies and squares."

Ric and Bran both perked up at that. "We'll help!" they chimed together.

Sansa rolled her eyes but saw Mama B beam. She loved cooking and baking for people.

"Tonight, we have everyone over, spaghetti, salad, appies and drinks. Tomorrow, Christmas Eve day, the traditional hockey game and bonfire at Winterfell."

"Hey, Dad, did you bring your skates?" Sandor asked Addam, who gave him a thumbs up.

"I did. It'll be good to get on the ice with you again, son."

Ric was bouncing, and he was so excited about the annual Stark family game of shinny.

"I call Sandor!" he said while Sansa rolled her eyes.

"Don't start, Ricrock. You know Dad decides the teams."

Her brother pouted and crossed his arms. "And I suppose you'll wear your figure skates?"

"Of course," she said primly. Sandor licked his lips and leaned down.

"Are there outfits, little bird?"

She winked saucily at him. "You bet big guy. Sparkly and tight that leave little to the imagination."

Sandor groaned as Sansa turned back to her itinerary for the following few days.

"After the outdoor game, and the bonfire, we're back here for the prime rib dinner and Christmas movies and for Dad to read Twas the Night Before Christmas."

All the Starks grinned at each other, and Sansa felt Sandor squeeze her butt, as he leaned in closer to her.

Mama B clapped excitedly. "Oh my, you guys go all out! I'm so excited!"

Sansa smiled at her, loving the addition of the Marbrand's to their growing family. "And then Christmas morning, again, here, where we'll do presents and brunch, followed by sledding down our new hill and then Christmas dinner. And everything has to be perfect!" Sansa declared, wagging a finger at everyone.

They happily agreed and then broke into teams, with Pod tagging along with Sansa and Sandor.

They heard Mama B talking to Sweetie, promising that Nana would give her a cookie if she were a good girl.

"Christ, that dog is spoiled," Sandor groused but was pleased to hear Sweetie's tail thump enthusiastically. Sandor knew firsthand that Mama B would go on a tear, baking up a storm, and with Addam, Ric and Bran there to help, their house would smell amazing when they got home.

"You know, this place is pretty awesome," Pod said, as they drove into town. There was a decent amount of snow from the night before, but now the sun was shining, and the entire North was decorated to the nines for Christmas.

"It's pretty cool," Sandor agreed, glancing back at Pod. Sansa's main social media person was a super chill dude, who seemingly got along well with everyone. Since Sansa was on her phone, muttering about things already selling out, Sandor cleared his throat.

"Ever thought of moving up here?" he asked Pod.

Sansa bit her lip to keep from smiling, thinking it was awesome how Sandor was making an effort with Pod. Pod could be a little shy at first, more comfortable navigating the world of social media and computer games than he was with big, tough, hockey players, but for some reason, Sandor didn't seem to intimidate him.

Pod shrugged.

"Maybe, now that I've been here. I don't have much in King's Landing keeping me there, and if this is where Sansa is going to be, then it makes sense."

Sansa turned in her seat and pinned him with a look. "Are you serious? That's awesome! Oh my god, Pod, that would be so wonderful."

They chatted a bit more, as Sandor took pleasure in pitting himself against the snow until they pulled into the parking lot at Costco.

"What is this place?" Pod asked, wonder in his voice.

Sandor rolled his eyes as Sansa chirped about warehouse shopping.

"You won't be rolling your eyes when we have four kids, and they go through a jug of milk a day," she warned him, loving when his eyes went all smoky and hot. Who would have ever figured that talking about a family with Sandor would get him so happy?

Inside, it was a bit of madness, and their celebrity status didn't help. By now, everyone in the North knew who they were, and they were stopped for autographs and pictures more than once. Pod delightfully snapped pictures and added to her IG account, claiming this was the 'real, unvarnished' Sansan until they finally loaded two carts down with more food than Sansa had ever purchased at any one time.

Sandor shook his head, but he knew how many mouths they were feeding. It looked like a lot, but in reality, there were several Wolves' players that would be around and close to thirty people for each meal. They needed this much food. After they'd paid and loaded up their SUV, Sandor drove Sansa to the local liquor store she preferred. She told both of them to grab a cart, watching Pod's eyes almost pop out of his head.

She shrugged. "I'm related to hockey players, and Mini can drink."

Sandor snorted and said in a sotto voice to Pod, "Sansa's granny can outdrink us all."

Pod spit out his latte, choking a bit as Sandor thumped him on the back.

"You call Minisa Tully, Granny?"

Sandor chuckled darkly. "Fucking right I do, old bat."

"Sandor, I can hear you," Sansa told him.

"Wasn't whispering, LB," he shot back.

Rolling her eyes, she directed her charges like a general did troops, and soon the big SUV was loaded down with booze and food.

She worried her lip as she watched Sandor load another box of wine inside. "Do you think it's enough?"

He gave her an incredulous look. "Are you fucking kidding me? Sansa, we just bought out two stores."

Sighing, she nodded. "I guess you're right. I'd just hate to run out."

Sandor gave her another snort and guided her back to the passenger seat. "We have enough. Trust me," he told her as she went to protest.

Knowing he was right, Sansa turned to Pod to discuss work stuff as Sandor drove them home.

Her brothers and Addam met them to help them unload, the guys enthusiastically going on about how awesome Mama B's cookies and squares were. Her house smelled divine, and Mama B produced soup and fresh buns for lunch.

Afterwards, Ned arrived with Cat, Mini and Arya so the ladies could discuss wedding plans. Addam, Ned, Hoster and Sandor all disappeared downstairs to 'talk shop,' while Sansa set out her three very large wedding binders on the coffee table in front of the roaring fire with the tree flickering in the background.

"Let me see that ring again, now in the light of day," Mini demanded, putting on her glasses to look.

"Spectacular," she said approvingly.

Sansa glanced at her mother, who was looking good today. Ned had told Sansa that Cat had slept in today and actually allowed Mini and Hoster to fend for themselves – well, be fed by Mordane.

"I know she was worried about not hosting Christmas, but it has taken so much stress off her, San. Thanks, baby, for doing this," her father said, giving her a warm hug.

Sansa squeezed him back. "A word of warning, Ric's already called Sandor for the game tomorrow," she told her Dad, who shook his head. Rickon's drive to win stopped at nothing.

"Thanks, baby. Now enjoy your time planning your wedding. Just remember who gets to walk you down the aisle."

Sansa couldn't help the tears that came as she burrowed into her Dad's arms. This was her dream, and everyone was giving it to her. She knew her wedding was going to be massive. She knew it would be the event of the season in the North. And she knew that Sandor could have just as easily eloped and been happy. But he'd do this – for her.

As she settled with the woman in her family, they drank wine and ate Christmas cookies as they giggled and chatted about ideas for the July wedding. Even Arya got into it, and Sansa was happy to see her sister not be too snarky about some of the things Sansa wanted.

Later, they made a huge spaghetti dinner as the wine and drinks flowed freely. This was her messy chaotic life, and Sansa revelled in it – having her family there with them. This is what she'd wanted her entire life, and she leaned against Sandor as she sipped her drink.

Robb and Dacey showed up before going to the bar for their last night they were open before closing for a few days.

Gendry arrived, with their dog, sending Sweetie into fits and starts of happiness.

Pod, who'd disappeared earlier with Ric and Bran, fit in well with her family. He spent considerable time with Cat, murmuring in the living room with her and ferrying her tea when she wanted it.

Rickon, whose birthday was in a week, on the 30th, demanded to know what they were doing since he'd be 19 and legal to drink. Dacey made him promise he'd have his first 'legal' drink at her bar, and then they'd go from there. Sandor, Gendry and Robb all told him they'd make sure he had a night he'd never forget.

After dinner had been cleaned, Pod headed into town with Bran, Arya, Gendry, Robb and Dacey. At the same time, Ned took Cat, Hoster and Mini home, every one promising to meet up again tomorrow, leaving Sansa and Sandor with his parents, while Ric went back to his place, grumbling about one more week.

The four of them were sitting in the living room, the lights out and just the fire and the tree going. Sansa was curled up in Sandor's arms, and she saw that Addam was rubbing a hand up and down Brenda's leg.

Sweetie was sprawled out in front of the fire, snoring softly.

It was peaceful and quiet and the perfect end to a hectic day.

"Happy little bird?" Sandor asked quietly, taking a sip of scotch.

She nodded and then leaned up for a kiss, which he gave her. 

"The happiest, Sandor. The happiest."

Pleased, since she knew the words were true, she felt his arms squeeze her tight. Sansa Stark had come home to the North and found everything she'd ever wanted.

The great love of her life, in a big, scarred tattooed package with a heart of gold.

Sandor Clegane was all hers, and Sansa wasn't letting him go for anything in this entire world. This was their life, and she loved every single moment of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next
> 
> The fluffiest Christmas you have EVER seen lol!
> 
> Seriously - cavity-inducing goodness


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve - day and night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The muse is speaking to me about this story.
> 
> If you thought the last chapter was sweet, hold on to your toques for this one. This is PEAK fluff. 
> 
> PEAK
> 
> Also, I LOVE this chapter, this story and these people.

* * *

  
[Picset ](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/623121992482209792/chapter-26-power-play)

* * *

_ Christmas Eve Day: Winterfell -Sandor _

With so much prepared and so much help at her disposal, Sansa had finally relaxed enough to spend some extra time with him this morning before they'd had to meet up with their family.

Sandor had made good use of that time, making her peak again and again with his tongue and his fingers, until she'd finally begged him to enter her.

As always, that feeling of sinking inside of her stole his breath, and he couldn't believe he was the lucky bastard who would get this pleasure for the rest of his life. It still messed with his head, that Sansa had chosen him. Not that he’d give her up for anything – she was his and he was a possessive man.

Afterwards, with him still buried balls deep in her, she'd shocked him when she told him she wanted to stop her birth control right before the wedding.

"I want a family, Sandor,” she said, by way of explanation.

He'd been too stunned at first to say anything, only realizing he was crying when a tear fell onto her face. She must not have needed his words, because she'd leaned up to kiss him gently.

"A lot of kids," she'd added.

He'd finally found his voice, his cock hardening again at the thought of her pregnant, as he thrust inside her.

"Fuck yeah, little bird. A whole fucking hockey team. Honeymoon it is. That’s when I’ll knock you up," he'd told her, wiggling his brows at her.

She laughed, then moaned and then arched up to meet his eager pumps, needing him as much as he needed her.

Sandor didn't care if they had girls or boys; he just wanted a family with her. A big, large, messy, wonderful family.

After another round of lovemaking, he'd finally worked up the courage to ask Sansa where she wanted to go for her honeymoon. They hadn’t really spent a lot of time talking about the wedding or the details involved with it.

She'd grinned and told him she wanted to go to the Arbor. It was one of the most beautiful places in Westeros, full of sandy beaches, endless snorkelling and wineries. Sandor didn't really care that much where they went, so he agreed readily. His only stipulation was a private villa and Sansa naked as much as possible. She told him that she would make sure that happened.

Later, when they finally made their way to the kitchen, they found Mama B already cooking breakfast for Pod, Bran and Ric, while Addam drank coffee and watched the news.

Sandor took a seat beside his Dad in all but name, wondering what he and Brenda would think when Sandor presented them with the adoption papers this Christmas. To some, it might seem silly that a man that was turning thirty-two in the next few months wanted to go through with it, but it was an important step for Sandor and one he wanted to make with these people whom he loved and whom loved him back.

"So, work is almost done?" Sandor asked, watching as Addam muted the television. One thing Addam had always been amazing at was giving Sandor his full attention. Ned was like that as well, and it was something Sandor wanted to emulate when he had children of his own.

"Yes. One month and then I have a bunch of vacation time. My official retirement begins on April 1st."

Sandor grinned at him and leaned forward.

"So, are you two looking at houses yet?"

Sandor knew his parents – they were organized to a fault, and now with this wedding, and the Wolves' team doing so well, he knew they'd want to be here ASAP. Mama B fit in well here, loved Sansa like her own child and Addam was happy talking hockey with Ned.

Addam chuckled just as Ric let out a happy whoop about a waffle he's stolen from Sansa, and handed Sandor his iPad.

"Your Mom likes that first one," Addam said, swallowing hard. He looked slightly worried. "It's a bit pricey, but we can manage it. We looked at it the other day, before coming to the rink. She fell in love. It's way too big, but it's close to Ned and Cat and has many, many extra rooms. Your mother has high hopes for lots of grandkids, son."

Sandor swallowed the lump in his throat. He thought back to how the Marbrand's had taken him in, sheltering him and clothing him, feeding him just as he had started to fill out and build muscle. There had been days he’d felt like he could never stem the hunger but they’d never complained when their grocery bill had increased dramatically.

Sandor knew that they'd gone without to give him the best hockey equipment, and they never had once asked him for a damn thing.

He looked up to see Sansa watching them, and knew she'd overheard their conversation. She gave him a soft smile, a nod, and a wink, and Sandor knew what he had to do. There was no fucking way his parents weren’t getting their dream home. Not if he had anything to say about it.

"It's great, Dad. We can't wait to have you guys here," was all Sandor said, both men rising to go and join the others for breakfast.

Afterwards, as everyone scattered to get ready for the day at Winterfell, Sandor spoke to Sansa in their bedroom.

"Fuck, San, he said it'd be tight, but doable. I can't fucking let them buy their own house. What good is all this fucking money if I can't do this for them?" he said, pacing a bit.

He wondered why they hadn't asked him for help, and knew it was about pride and not crossing a line. But this was what family did, right? He was their son, and sons helped their parents. At least, that’s how Sandor understood it.

Sansa, who knew him better than anyone, hugged him hard.

"Just call the listing agent and get the paperwork started. Even with it being the 24th, no one will turn down a million-dollar sale, Sandor."

He stilled and looked at her.

"Are you sure? It's not a small amount of money."

The money itself wasn’t an issue – he had more than enough, but some women would balk at their soon to be husband spending that kind of money on his parents. Those women weren’t women he wanted in his life, but he knew their type.

Sandor had known gold diggers his entire life – had been wary of them when he'd signed his first multi-million dollar contract and it had probably kept him out of trouble now that he thought about it. He’d seen more than one guy get hooked up with the wrong women, only to end up single, alone and paying huge alimony payments.

Sandor knew that Sansa was as unlike those women as anyone he'd ever known. It helped she had her own fortune, that she was a Stark, and that she'd most likely be worth several million dollars more than he was. Funnily enough, Sandor never thought about ever using her money. And it didn’t bothered him in the least that she might be a very wealthy woman one day.

Sandor frowned.

"We should get a prenup so that you know I don't want your money," he suddenly blurted out.

Sansa's mouth dropped open, and then she threw her head back and laughed.

"Oh my god, only you, Sandor. You know you are the best man ever, right?" she said, shaking her head at him.

Then she rose on her tiptoes, kissed him and said, "Nope."

He frowned after her as she went about their room, putting things on the bed she wanted to take to Winterfell as if this discussion were over.

"Sansa, we need to talk about this," he said, a bit frustrated she'd dismissed his concerns so quickly.

She looked up at him, saw he was serious and sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Ok, I know. I know that the money talk is important. I'm being not blasé, Sandor. There are some things that Yohn is probably going to advise when it comes to my company and keeping it in my name. And I agree with him when it comes to that.”

He opened his mouth to agree when she held up her hand.

"But as far as personal wealth, what is mine is yours and what is yours is mine. I want a true, full marriage. I don't want to go into this already worried about what happens if this doesn't work – if our marriage fails. And yes, I know that makes me sound naïve, but I do not ever want to be divorced, Sandor. That is not done in my family, and quite honestly, I can't imagine that ever happening between us. I love you too much to imagine you not in my life.”

Neither could he, but he still didn't want her to leave herself vulnerable to anyone – even him. When he told her that, she gave him one of those enigmatic smiles.

"Sandor, you are the last man on earth that would ever hurt me," she told him, with complete confidence. "Even, and god, I hate saying this, but _even _if we were to separate, I know you would never go after my money."

He was stunned by her, humbled and in awe of how much confidence she had in them, and him. And she was right. He would never go after her wealth, even if their marriage crumbled.

And yet, he pressed the issue, sitting next to her.

He picked up one of her hands, so small and delicate yet capable of so much.

"I just don't want there to be any doubts, Sansa, about why I'm in this relationship with you. I know what your company is going to be worth one day. What you will be worth," he said honestly.

By the time she was done building her empire, Sandor knew she could be worth a billion dollars. A billion! That blew anything he was earning away.

"And what if something happens to my company or my brand? What if I mess something up, or one of my products fails? What if it all goes under? Yes, there is huge potential, Sandor, but also a huge risk. I'm expanding rapidly and taking on massive capital costs with the office building and the warehouse in the North. What if I fail?"

Sandor had never heard her speak like that before, so he thought about his words carefully.

"Do you have some diversified investments?"

She nodded.

"I do. I also maintain two entirely separate companies, and funnel the profits from each company back into themselves, while keeping a certain amount free and clear." She shrugged. "I mean, even now, if everything stopped, if it all just crashed, I'd be fine. I'm wealthy. You're wealthy. We can afford to buy your parents their retirement home, easily, Sandor. I don't want separate lives when it comes to money. I want to make decisions together. I want us to buy them their home so that when we take our children there, we know they are happy and can just focus on being grandparents.”

Sandor cocked his head as he finally understood what she was getting at. And he had to admit, and he wanted that type of relationship as well. This woman constantly surprised him in the best possible way.

"Alright, that makes sense. I get it. You want a marriage, and you don't want us to make independent financial decisions when it comes to our lives together, personal things."

She beamed at him.

"Exactly. I mean, work-wise, I get that we need to keep things separate, especially with MiSa. And I'll probably ask you for advice from time to time, and you might ask me for advice when something comes up. But by and large, when it comes to our personal stuff, I want it all mixed up together and messy. I want it to be real, you know? I want this to be a marriage – a real one.”

He did know, and told her that, before kissing her hard. Then she pushed his phone into his hand and told him to call the agent and get the house thing rolling.

The agent, who was all too happy to put the cash offer in on the house, told Sandor he'd rush the paperwork and get things started immediately. But it was basically a done deal – he and Sansa had bought his parents a house for Christmas.

Feeling better, Sandor went back to helping Sansa gather his gear for this game. No one played the fun game with full hockey gear, but he still needed his gloves, helmet, and sticks along with his skates. Stuff like that was important to hockey players, and he added some extra sweaters, mitts, toques and jackets to Sansa's ever-growing pile.

It took a few hours, but finally, the seven of them were in the big SUV and headed down to Winterfell.

Pod seemed a bit in awe that he was going to play a game of shinny on outdoor ice with at least five members of the Wolves' hockey team, while Mama cradled a big bottle of Bailey's she insisted they needed for the coffee and hot chocolate.

Sandor was watching Pod's face when they pulled up to Winterfell. His and Sansa's place was impressive – one of the most beautiful homes in the North, but it wasn't Winterfell. Nothing was, and Sandor loved that this historic house was going to be part of his life and his children's lives. It was simply breathtaking.

The Starks all piled out, joking and needling each other about this tradition as a family did. Mama B and Addam, at home here and growing closer by the minute with Ned and Cat, didn't even hesitate to hurry inside, but Pod held back.

Sandor stood beside him, gazing at the impressive mansion.

"I didn't really know," Pod muttered, looking embarrassed. "I mean, I knew Sansa was a Stark, but this …" He trailed off as he waved a hand towards Winterfell.

Sandor nodded and clapped a hand on his back. He got it – he did.

"My Dad was a mean fucking drunk that beat the piss out of me when he felt like it. What's worse was my older brother was ten times as bad, and my Dad did fuck all to stop him from hurting me. Then my Mom got sick when I was just a boy, and I watched her waste away from cancer. I ran away from home at twelve, knowing if I stayed, either my brother would kill me or beat me so badly bad I would never be the same. None of this is my world, Podrick. But those people inside that big house – they don't fucking care who your family was or wasn't. If they've accepted you as one of them, you're in. That's it. That's all."

Pod swallowed hard and nodded once.

"She pays me too much money," he muttered, and Sandor laughed.

"Stop that shite. I've seen what you do, and it's important. Don't undervalue yourself and don't say no to what you've earned, or you'll piss Sansa off. Now, I'll give you the tour and remember if Granny Tully gets mean, come find me, and I'll make her a martini. She likes Vespers."

Pod's mouth dropped open as Sandor ushered him inside Winterfell. Both men stopped and stared.

If their house looked like Santa's workshop, Winterfell was decorated like Mr. and Mrs. Claus lived here full time. Sandor definitely knew where Sansa got her love for the holidays from, and he could hardly blame her, growing up in such a setting. It looked like a movie set and was the epitome of what Christmas was supposed to look like.

When his mother had been alive, she'd tried, with whatever meagre savings she'd managed to hide from his father's gambling and alcohol habit to make their holiday less bleak. But none of their Christmas trees had ever looked anything like what the Starks had put out, and Sandor could count on one hand the number of presents he'd received from his parents.

Even with the Marbrand's, he'd made it so that Christmas wasn't a big deal, and they'd mostly indulged him because he'd said he'd hated it when he realized how little extra money they’d had.

Later he understood he was just trying to protect himself from more pain and what he had missed by being so hurt and abused as a child. Besides, living in their house, being safe was like Christmas all the time so he never wanted to ask for more. 

Lost in his memories, Sandor only realized Sansa was there when she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. Hard. His arms came up to hold her close.

"Let me know if it's all too much," she murmured quietly to him.

They were the last to arrive, so it was pure chaos in the Stark home. The woman he loved had lived a charmed life, had never gone a night hungry, had never had to doubt that what she'd asked Santa for would show up under the tree on Christmas morning.

And yet, she understood him, in a way no other person ever had. He would never be alone with his demons, his memories, and his brutal past because he had Sansa now.

She wanted in to the mess that was him – she was there for him.

Sandor brushed a kiss across the top of her head, feeling himself settle. Their children would never know what he had, and if he had his way, no child in the North would. They'd make a difference, with their influence and celebrity status, to change the lives of those less fortunate than they were.

"Thanks, little bird."

He took a moment to gaze at her family and then felt Sansa tugging him forward.

"Come on, and the rink is outback. Robb, Jon, Arya and Gendry showed up early, so it's all ready to go."

There were huge plates of snacks on the kitchen island, vats of coffee and hot chocolate, and some liquor that the guys were already into.

Sandor had to admit that it felt good to be here, to see his adoptive parents mingling with Sansa's family and some of his teammates. Jeyne had texted earlier, and they had agreed that Harley would make his debut today, instead of Christmas morning, as it would give him time to adjust and give Jeyne and Bronn some privacy on Christmas morning.

When Ric walked up to them, looking put out, the rookie chased away the last of Sandor's bad mood. Sandor rarely saw Ric in a mood, so he wondered what was going on.

"Dad wouldn't let me be on your team. He put me with Sansa," he said, the disgust evident in his voice. Ric rolled his eyes.

"It's because we're too awesome together, Sandor. Sorry."

Sandor snorted at Ric and how crestfallen he looked, thinking he was excited to seeing Sansa on skates.

"Oh, quit whining baby bro," Sansa said. "It's not that bad."

Ric glowered at her. “Every year, Sansa. You do it every year.”

Sansa just smirked at her brother and said, “Then man up and be better.”

Wondering what that was all about, Sandor followed them outside. There was clearly some history when it came to the ‘fun game.’

The pathway down to the lake was cleared, and something out a fairytale Sandor thought, strung with white Christmas lights, everything covered in fresh snow.

When the path opened up to the lake, even Sandor gasped as he spotted the massive cleared area, with hockey nets and pucks waiting for them.

There were benches, a fire pit, tables and even an outhouse and a change room. Sandor glanced over at Addam and Mama B, who looked equally stunned, although the Starks and Jon Snow were just sniping at each other.

This was clearly something that they just 'did' and had no idea the magic of it.

But Sandor did.

Hoster came up next to him, patting Sandor on his back, gazing at Ned.

"Let me tell you something, Sandor. I was worried when this northern hockey player caught my Cat's eye. I was worried he couldn't provide her with the life she deserved. But I was wrong. He just loved her so much and made all her dreams come true. For Cat, that was giving her family and making that family the most important thing in his world – even more so than his career."

Sandor said nothing, sensing Hoster wasn’t quite done.

“Now I see the way you look at Sansa and you’ll do the same things for her that Ned did for Cat.”

“I will,” Sandor said and sucked in a deep breath and nodded, his eyes finding Sansa.

She had on black leggings, a white sweater, a black toque that hardly contained her hair and white figure skates. She stood up from the bench, gracefully, twirled once, and then sent a wink to Ric.

"Race you, baby bro," she taunted him.

Sandor knew how fast Ric was on the ice, and he wondered what she was up to. Ric was generally regarded as one of the best skaters on the Wolves’ team – a team of professional hockey players.

There was no way she could beat Rickon.

Right?

Ric moaned.

"Not fair, Sansa. It's like you want to embarrass me in front of Sandor," he grumbled.

Intrigued, Sandor stood, fixated on her, watching as she took off, a blur of red, black and white down the ice, while Ric scrambled to catch up.

Ned was suddenly beside him, and they all watched her, as smooth a skater as anyone Sandor had ever seen.

"Fuck, she's amazing," Sandor said out loud, and Ned hummed his agreement.

"Had she wanted, she could have made the Olympics. She was that good."

Sandor's mouth dropped open as he turned to stare at Ned. "Then why didn't she?"

Ned shrugged.

"I'm not sure. It was a huge commitment, even more than anything you boys ever went through. Demanding. Political. She wanted something else, and I always told my kids to chase their own dreams. That wasn’t her dream.”

Most parents would be angry if they had a kid with that level of talent that chose not to pursue it, but Ned seemed unconcerned that Sansa hadn’t gone further in her skating career.

Sandor watched as she twirled on the ice, then skated backwards, taunting Ric as he pushed to catch her, ducking out of the way as he lunged at her.

Then she laughed, and pivoted, working up some speed, her edges digging into the ice before she launched herself off the ice and into a jump, landing perfectly.

He'd seen the pictures, of course, of Sansa in her white skates and sparkly costumes. She was graceful and athletic, so he'd always known that she'd be good at skating. The several first-place medals proudly displayed at Winterfell also spoke to her skills on the ice, different than his but no less impressive.

But knowing that his soon to be wife was a dynamo on the ice, and witnessing it were two totally different things.

Now though, watching her as if she’d been born with skates on her feet, Sandor was stunned. He knew his mouth was hanging open as her eyes found his. She skated back towards the edge of the lake where he was standing.

"Come on, big guy. I promise I'll take it easy on you," she called out, a grin on her face. She took his breath away with how carefree and happy she looked at that moment.

The others hooted and hollered, and Sandor didn't give flying fuck if she made him look worse than a rookie. Suddenly, he had to be with her on the ice. He laced his skates in minutes and then pushed himself off the bench, his powerful strides quickly catching her.

Sandor knew that he was one of the best skaters in the league. Perhaps not as fast as Ric, or as Jaime had been in his heyday, but he was good. Damned good.

Sansa was better.

That was just the plain, honest to god truth. She was amazing, and as he reached her, she held her hand out for him. She easily kept up to him, and Sandor knew that she could technically skate circles around him.

They went off on their own for a bit, content to just be with one another, as he turned to skate backwards to face her.

"Why didn't you pursue this?" he asked, curiosity lacing his tone.

She shrugged and looked back to their family and friends, now gathering by the nets.

"You have to be all in. It would have had to be everything, and I had other dreams," she told him, echoing what her father had said.

He shook his head in wonder at her.

"I had no idea you were so good, Sansa."

She smiled brightly.

"I was, but it wasn't my passion, and I knew I'd end up resenting it. It's enough to beat Ric's ass a few times a year, to keep him humble."

Sandor threw his head back and laughed and then stopped pulling her against him. Their breath was forming mist between them, and her cheeks were pink. If he hadn't proposed to her twice already, this would have been the perfect moment.

"I love you," he said, the words the only thing that mattered at that moment.

Her blue eyes went all warm and dreamy. "Oh, I love you so much, Sandor."

Then his lips were on hers as she spun them in a movie worthy kiss before Robb and Jon were yelling at them to get over to the nets so the game could begin.

Holding hands, they glided over together.

On his team were Pod, Bran, Arya, Addam, Wyn and Robb.

It was clear that Ned had thought breaking the couples up would result in a more competitive game, and while Bran wasn't exactly a WHL level player, he reassured Sandor he could hold his own. Especially as a forward.

Ric, who was grumbling about having Sansa on his team, also had Jon, Jeyne, Bronn, Ned and Gendry.

"You can't hog the puck, San. I won't have it. I'm the pro now," Ric was saying, lecturing her.

It was fascinating seeing this different side of Sansa. She wasn't backing down from her brother as she grabbed a stick and played with a puck.

Who knew he'd be so turned on watching Sansa stick handle? Sandor could hardly speak, watching her like this, taunting Ric.

"Side bet, Ricrock. If I score more goals than you, you walk Sweetie every day this week," she said to him.

He rolled his eyes but responded, his eyes lighting up. "And if I score more goals than you, you match me drink for drink on my 19th birthday."

Sansa groaned but held out her hand to make the bet.

"Shit," Robb muttered, shaking his head. "We're fucked."

Arya agreed.

Sandor frowned. "Why?"

"Because like hell you'll actually do anything to stop her, and she and Ric are insanely competitive. It drives him mental that he has never been able to beat her in goals at the Christmas Eve game."

Once again, Sandor was left standing there stunned.

Sansa beat Rickon?

Rickon was up for rookie of the year.

Just how good was she?

Then Sandor couldn't think at all, as the game was starting, and he figured out why the Starks were so damn good at hockey.

They had this rink, this passion, this drive. This was their life and what they had grown up with, and god willing, what his children would grow up with as well.

Hockey was in their blood, in their family, in their traditions.

And even Sansa and Bran were excellent at the game.

Seeing a hockey stick in Sansa's hands, not to mention her skills, turned him on in a way that muddled his brain.

He soon realized that Robb was right – there was no way he was going to be able to play against her the way he did in the league.

And for everyone else, as much as they were competitive, they were having fun. More than one guy grabbed their significant other and spun them around in a bear hug or hauled them down on the ice.

The Starks didn't play with penalties, just gave possession back to the other team when Dacey blew her whistle as the stand-in referee. Of course, she and Robb were busing kissing half the time, so she missed a ton of calls, much to Ric's disgust.

"Get your head in the game Dace!" Ric yelled at her.

She just flipped him off. Ric rolled his eyes in disgust.

Ric also accused Sandor, loudly, of not doing his job.

"She skated right by you!" Ric snapped, as Sansa scored another goal.

Sandor shrugged and leaned on his stick. He was having a great time skating beside Addam and just being with these people. This side of Rickon was fascinating to him.

"What do you want me to do? Check her?"

Ric muttered something in antipathy and skated off to the bench. Sandor chuckled at the rookie, never having seen this side of him before.

At the end of the first 'period,' there was a break, where everyone crowded around the spectators, to drink hot chocolate, coffee or whiskey, and eat Christmas baking.

Sandor's team was down by two, but he didn't much care as Sansa leaned against him. He caught Robb's eye, and the man nodded and then skated out in front of the group, clearing his throat.

Everyone turned to look at him, and even though it wasn't Wintertown Arena, Sandor knew the nerves Robb must be feeling. This was a big moment in any man's life, when he asked the woman he loved to be his wife. 

"Hey Dace, could you join me?"

Dacey shot a look to Sansa, who just shrugged, as everyone went quiet. Dacey put her drink down and skated out to Robb, who dropped to his knee. The background was perfect, with the mountains, the snow, the sun, and Robb's face, so in love and serious.

"Oh my god, Robb Stark, what are you doing?" Dacey hissed at him, trying to tug him back to his feet.

Robb just kept on kneeling and took out the ring box, flipping it open.

She gasped, as Cat and Ned hugged hard. Sansa was almost vibrating in excitement beside Sandor.

"Dacey Mormont, I've been in love with you forever. I was too immature, too much of an ass to handle a woman like you, until now. For months now, you've made me jump through every hoop to prove that I want this. That I want us. And I do, baby. I want a life with you. Now, tomorrow, forever. I love you, Dacey. Will you marry me?"

Sansa was quietly crying happy tears, as Sandor squeezed her hard, both of them watching Dacey say yes. Robb slid the ring onto her finger and then picked her up and twirled her around before everyone swarmed them.

Sandor didn't miss how Dacey came to sit beside Cat and hugged her gently, nor did he miss how Ned hugged her softly and welcomed her to the family. It felt right and good, and Robb looked a little bit stunned – happy but stunned. Sandor totally got what he was feeling.

Ric gave Dacey a quick hug but muttered how the game would be even more rigged now. Everyone just laughed at him.

The second period was more of the same, if not crazier, as people drank more, and the game got sloppier. Ric finally tied it up, so he and Sansa both had three goals apiece when they took another 'break.'

By this time, Sansa had been drinking Bailey's with her coffee, so she was giggling with her girlfriends. Sandor loved tipsy Sansa.

Sandor pulled Ric aside and said, "How badly do you want to win this bet?"

Ric's eyes went wide as they darted to Sansa and then back to Sandor.

"Badly."

Sandor nodded and then leaned down to whisper, "Tell Jeyne, _it's time_."

Even though he had no idea what that meant, Ric nodded early and raced off to speak to Jeyne. Within moments, Jeyne's eyes found his and Sandor gave her a subtle thumbs up.

"What the fuck are you planning that's going to have us all looking like insensitive assholes?" Robb muttered as he and Jon flanked Sandor.

Sandor tried to look innocent, just as he heard Jeyne say she needed to dash up to the house for a moment, dragging Bronn with her. Everyone assumed that meant a quickie, which Bronn was happy to add to the misinformation, loudly telling everyone to give them ten minutes.

"Nothing," Sandor said, shaking his head, but Jon and Robb just snorted, as they gazed at their women. Sansa, Wyn, and Dacey were all busy talking weddings with Cat, Mini and Mama B.

"Fuck, I love her so damn much," Robb said, voice thick. "She'd going to be my wife, you guys. My fucking wife," he said, still a bit stunned.

Sandor clapped him on the back, proud of how much Robb had grown up, as they speculated about the types of weddings the women would want.

Ten minutes later, Sandor spotted Bronn carrying the special box that held their new puppy. It had bright red wrapping paper and breathing holes for the dog. Sansa, who had her back to the pathway, didn't see Bronn approach, as his best friend transferred the box to him. The box wiggled as Sandor grinned.

He took the box and skated towards the benches where Sansa was sitting, as everyone quieted, realizing another surprise was happening.

"Sandor?" she asked, her pretty blue eyes all confused.

He gently set the box down in front of her and said, "Merry Christmas, Sansa. This is gift number one."

Even though Sansa had led a charmed life, at that moment, Sandor realized that no man had ever really made her feel special – not in the romantic, _I love you with my entire heart and don't care if I look like a love-struck fool for you _kind of way. He was determined to be that man.

She was speechless and quite possibly the most adorable thing he'd ever seen.

Sansa did nothing for a moment, looking between the box and him.

Then the box yipped, and her eyes went wide, and she tore off the top, to see the puppy inside. Harley burst up, all wiggly and full of energy, happily licking at her as she cradled him to her chest.

"Oh my goodness, who are you?" she asked him.

"Look at his collar," Sandor said gruffly.

She took his name tag between her fingers and read his name out.

"Harley Stark Clegane."

Her bottom lip wobbled, and her eyes filled with tears.

"He's mine?" she asked Sandor quietly. He could already see she was in love with the puppy, who had a smile on his face as he sat in Sansa's lap like a good boy.

"Yup. Jeyne got him a few weeks ago and called me. I knew the moment I saw him, and he was perfect for us."

Big fat tears, happy ones, he hoped, rolled down her cheeks as she cradled her new puppy to her chest, hugging him hard.

"He's perfect!" she cried.

Harley wiggled free and then tried to run on the ice, slipping until Ric picked him up. Ric was grinning, losing that wild competitive look for the first time today.

"He's really ours?" Ric asked Sandor, who nodded.

_Ours. _

Fuck, these people. They just sucked him in, making him feel more and more. He loved them all – as loud and as nosy as they were. They were his – all of them.

"He is," Sandor said, as Sansa launched herself into his arms.

After that, the game was over, as Ric dashed up to the house to let Sweetie and Arya's dog out to meet Harley.

They packed things up on the rink and then built up the fire, as pots of chilli and beef stew were produced, along with buns, beer, whiskey and hot cider.

They had some time before they had to head home to start on the impressive dinner that Sansa planned on serving tonight for Christmas Eve.

But for now, the moment was perfect, with Sansa cuddled on his lap, gazing adoringly at their dogs who were playing in the snow with Ric, Bran and Pod.

Sansa brushed a kiss across his scarred cheek, not that he minded. It didn't seem to bother her at all, so he found himself caring less and less about it.

"He's perfect," she told him softly. "Thank you."

Pleased with himself, content with his life, Sandor just kissed her back and then settled into this life that was pretty damn close to perfect as far as he could tell. Sandor knew this was shaping up to be the best Christmas ever.

* * *

_ Christmas Eve: Hill House – Sansa  _

Sansa was laughing at Harley as he wiggled on her lap while Sandor drove them home. The hockey game had been more than she'd ever imagined, with Robb's proposal to Dacey and the new addition to their family.

It didn't phase her to have another dog, and watching Sweetie and H together made it all the more perfect. She was already in love with her puppy, cooing happily to him as he licked her.

The fact that she had to go home and prepare a meal for eighteen people should have her edgy and concerned, but Mama B was a fantastic cook and Sandor, along with Addam, promised to help. If Sansa left the cooking to them, she'd take care of everything else, including setting the table and preparing her house for the Stark family invasion.

She reached out and squeezed Sandor's hand and caught the look of contentment on his face. Who knew that this huge, crazy insane family that she had would be what he wanted as well.

For a brief moment, Sansa tried to imagine Harry here, doing any of this and knew he had just never fit in. He'd come once to Winterfell for Christmas and hadn't even bothered to come down to the ice rink to watch the game, let alone participate. Harry just hadn't fit, where it was as if Sandor had always meant to be here.

When they finally got home, Sansa happily took Harley out to the bathroom and then gave him the tour, Sweetie all but glued to her side. Sansa made sure to give the older dog lots of pats, love and attention.

"He's our baby, isn't he, my girl," Sansa told their first rescue, as H happily sniffed everything.

She eventually made her way upstairs and found out that Pod loved to cook, so he was happy to be Mama B's sous chef. Addam and Sandor had dutifully prepped some of the side dishes for tonight, and Sansa put Ric and Bran to work, lighting candles and setting the table. Sansa was so pleased to see the china and silverware she had picked out on her table, in her home.

They were just finishing up with their preparations, the sun finally setting, when Mama declared dinner well on its way and told everyone to go and change.

Harley followed Ric out of the main house and across the lane to his house, as Sansa dragged Sandor off for a shared shower and to thank him properly for her gift.

In their room, alone for the first time since this morning, she pounced, tugging at his clothing until his dick, now hard, sprang free. She sunk to her knees.

"Sansa," he protested weakly as she took him in her mouth.

She loved doing this for them and found it turned her on. When she had him grunting, thrusting inside of her mouth, his hands in her hair, she knew it was time. Working quickly, she shucked off the rest of her clothing as he did the same, then pushed him down on the bed and sunk down on top of him.

"Thank you for my present," she told him, kissing him hard.

She was pleased to see his eyes almost roll back into his head as she rode him, and he barely managed to choke out your welcome before his thumb brushed over her sensitive bud. She shattered around him, Sandor pumping quickly and following her over that lovely peak.

She collapsed on him, loving the sweaty stickiness that came from loving this man until he finally got them to the shower. There was no time to play anymore, knowing that her family was on their way, but Sansa promised more later.

For a moment after the shower, when they were wrapped in fluffy white towels, she stilled and leaned back against Sandor, loving how his big arms made her feel so safe.

"Our first Christmas together," she said softly.

"Yeah, first of many," he replied.

She turned, so she could look him in the eyes.

"It's so incredible, what's happened since you came North."

He tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear, cocking his head.

"You came North as well, Sansa. You found your way back here."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Sometimes, I think it's too good to be true. You, this, us. This life, Sandor. We are too blessed. Then I remember Ramsay and my Mom. And dogs like Sweetie and kids like you and Pod that won't have much this Christmas. There is still so much bad stuff, but it's offset now with the good.”

He cupped her cheeks, brushing away the tears, kissing her gently.

"Sansa, you're filled with such goodness. We can make such a difference. I had no idea that any of this was even possible for me, but here we are."

"Here we are."

From somewhere in the house, they heard excited barking, and they knew their alone time was up. They rushed to dress, Sansa pulling on a green woollen dress that hugged her curves, letting her hair dry into her natural waves. Sandor wore one of his elegant designer suits. Before they left the room, she took a selfie of them, her ring prominently displayed on his chest, Sandor gazing at her with adoration in his eyes.

_#CleganefamilyChristmas_

_#SansansaysMerryChristmasEve_

_#FutureMrandMrsClegane _

She posted to her Instagram account and then giggled, telling Sandor that Pod's head would explode when he saw it.

When they wandered out, hand in hand, they saw that everyone was there.

Their home was filled with the smells of a delicious meal, the pine from the tree, and Christmas baking. People mingled drinks in hand, dressed to the nines for their dinner.

Dacey and Sansa, along with Jeyne and Arya, sipped red wine, while Mini hollered for Sandy to make her a martini.

Hoster, Addam and Ned all nursed glasses of scotch, while all the guys drank beer. Everyone had agreed to let Ric have a few tonight, and he was beaming.

Arya and Gendry had brought their dog, so there were three happy puppies chasing each other around the house. Soon enough, the younger guys were downstairs, the women in front of the tree, while the Dads, plus Sandor and Bronn, went to Sandor's manly study downstairs.

Mini drilled Dacey on what type of wedding she might want, and while they'd barely spoken, Sansa wasn't worried that it would interfere at all with her big splashy one. Dacey and her wanted really different things.

"I think maybe we'll get married at the bar," Dacey said, watching Mini clutch at her chest.

Cat shook her head, smiling at Dacey as she bated Mini.

"YOUR BAR!? You're marrying a Stark, dear. That simply won't do."

In truth, Dacey wanted something small and simple in the backyard of the house she shared with Robb.

"Sansa will give you the big society wedding," Dacey told Mini, who grunted but did not look mollified in the least. Sansa knew that Dace was at least as stubborn as Mini, so this should be fun and take a hell of a lot of pressure off of her.

Harley, who seemed to love doing stairs, kept going up and down, between her and Sandor, until finally, Mama B, Pod and Cat declared that dinner was ready.

When everyone was seated, Sansa stood with Sandor at the head of the table, looking at their guests. There was something so amazing about having everyone here, in her home, when five months ago, her life had felt like it was in such a downward spiral.

"First, we'd like to thank everyone for coming," Sansa started to say. "Whether you are family, friends, colleagues, or soon to be family, we are blessed to have you here, in our home, celebrating with us tonight."

A cheer rose for that toast, and then Sansa looked at Sandor. He looked a bit nervous but cleared his throat.

"As you all know, I came North, somewhat unwillingly."

There were smirks and snorts at that. It was well known that at the time, Sandor was not pleased with the trade.

Sansa squeezed his hand. He picked up an envelope that he'd brought to the table. He didn't want this moment to be missed in the chaos of Christmas morning. This deserved to be recognized for what it was – life changing.

"My life was shit for a long time. My Dad was useless, and my brother was a monster. But I was lucky. I ran away and straight into the arms of two people that couldn't have loved me more than if I was their own son."

Everyone looked at Brenda and Addam. Both were looking at Sandor with such love, that Sansa felt the tears come again.

Sandor shuffled a bit but pressed on.

"Ummm, I wasn't always the easiest kid for them. Gave them a hard time, made things more difficult than it should have been." He shrugged. "I know now that it was because of what I'd been through, but they stuck with me."

"We love you, Sandy," Mama B said proudly.

Sandor sniffed and nodded.

"You do. And I should have done this years ago. Here," he said, almost shoving the paper towards them.

The Starks and Tullys just sat quietly, as Addam took the envelope.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Open it," Sandor said, a bit gruffly. It was clear he was nervous.

Sliding the papers out, Sansa watched the faces of the Marbrands’ as they read the papers that would officially make Sandor their son. Brenda clutched at Addam, her eyes going wide as she looked to Sansa and Sandor.

"Is this…?"

"It's adoption paperwork. I've uhhhh well; I've signed everything. So if you want me, well I’m yours,” Sandor said, ending his sentence.

He was squeezing Sansa's hand so hard, and she knew a part of him was worried he might be rejected.

Addam rose, and the intensity on his face told Sansa that this man would never reject Sandor. He and Brenda hurried towards Sandor until they pulled him into their arms.

"We will _never _not want you, Sandor. I would be honoured for you to be my son, officially," Addam told him in a voice that wavered.

There wasn't a dry eye, even Robb, Ric and Bran getting the significance of this moment.

After Mama had hugged Sandor and Sansa, she turned to the group and almost yelled, "I need a pen!"

Hoster chuckled and produced one of his Mont Blanc ones he always had on him with a flourish, as the Marbrands quickly signed the paperwork. Sansa put it all back in the envelope, promising to take it to their lawyer when they opened back up.

After that, they all dug into dinner, the monumental events of the day, making everyone thankful and content.

A proposal.

A new puppy.

A family finally coming together.

After supper and clean up, Ned settled in to read _Twas the Night Before Christmas_, as Sansa snuggled next to Sandor on one of the loveseats by the fireplace.

It was late, and her parents, along with Mini and Hoster, would be leaving soon, leaving all the Stark kids here to watch Christmas movies in their home theatre downstairs.

Sansa gazed across the room to her Mom, who gave her a little wink and a thumbs up. Today had been utterly perfect.

"One day, our kids will be here," she whispered into Sandor's ear.

He grunted, but she saw how pleased that idea made him.

Hours later, after laughing through both Elf and the original cartoon version of The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, Sansa put out stockings and stuffed them and made some last-minute preparations for the morning. Sandor said he had a few more things to take care of, so she softly called for the dogs to follow her to the bedroom.

When Sandor found her, she was trying to convince Harley to lie on his bed. He, of course, insisted on curling up beside Sweetie, who indulgently let him snuggle into her.

"Leave them, little bird," Sandor told her, entering the room and taking her hand and bringing her to bed.

Exhausted, but happy, she did so and cuddled deep into Sandor's arms.

She happened to look at the clock, just as it turned to 12:01 am.

She turned to the man she loved more than anyone else and said, "Happy first Christmas, Sandor."

He smiled, brushed his lips across hers and murmured, "Happy first Christmas, Sansa."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> Christmas Day


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So the final of the Christmas chapters!

* * *

_ Christmas Day – Sansa _

The whimpering awoke both of them, just after 3 am. Sansa groaned and rolled over to see Harley sitting at the edge of the bed, wagging his tail. It was clear he needed to use the bathroom, and she was actually quite proud that he had woken her up.

"Alright, baby, hold on," she whispered, trying not to wake Sandor.

Of course, the moment she swung her legs out over the bed, he woke up.

"Little bird?" he asked, voice almost rough with sleep.

"Just Harley, big guy. Go back to sleep," she told him.

He didn't listen, getting out of bed before her.

"I'll take him out," was all Sandor said and disappeared with the puppy, while Sweetie jumped up for snuggles with Sansa.

She dozed, trying to stay awake until he came back, and snickered as his cold feet pressed against hers.

He nuzzled her neck, and she arched back into him, loving how his strong arms encircled her. Both dogs were now on their huge bed, but Harley thought it was time to play.

Sandor was growling at him to lay down, but the more he spoke, the more hyper the puppy got, until finally, Sandor plopped him down on the floor. Sweetie gave Sandor a look and then hopped down until both dogs were again snuggled up together on the dog bed.

"He needs to be kennel trained," Sandor muttered, punching his pillow. Secretly Sansa adored it when he was all grumpy and rumbly and snarky.

"We'll pick one up on Boxing Day," she told him.

When she was back in his arms, she finally felt him settle. Sansa pressed a kiss to his chest and closed her eyes, the excitement of hosting her first Christmas, making it hard for her to sleep. Eventually, she drifted off and woke when the winter sun brightened their room.

It was early, just past six am, but there was no way she'd sleep now. She had so much planned for today and wanted to ensure it was special for everyone.

For her mother, because of her illness and how brutal the past few months had been.

For Sandor's parents, because he'd genuinely started to let them in.

For Robb and Dacey and the start of their relationship.

For Rickon, in his first year in the WHL, and now in his own place.

For Bran because he so rarely visited.

She just wanted things to be perfect. In that way, Sansa really was her mother's daughter. Being a great hostess was something Sansa took pride in.

"Penny for your thoughts, little bird?" Sandor's voice rumbled in her ear.

She turned, knowing the smile on her face was huge.

"It's Christmas Sandor!" she said, excitement almost pouring off of her.

"Christmas!" she added unnecessarily.

His rumbly laugh warmed her, as he reached up to play with a strand of her hair.

"What are you going to be like when we have children? You'll be more excited than them."

She nodded and looked serious.

"I most likely will be. It's just such a great time. Family, friends, food. We have board games and tobogganing, and everyone is just here. You guys haven't been at the rink in three days now, and I get all of you here!"

He looked humbled at her words, and she saw him fighting the emotion.

"Sansa," he eventually choked out.

She nuzzled their noses together.

"Plus, this year, I got matching PJs for everyone."

He frowned, and Sansa laughed.

"Excuse me?" Sandor said.

The only way she could describe his expression was flabbergasted. She giggled.

"Matching PJs. I bought thirty pairs."

His eyes went wide, and he snorted and shook his head.

"I love you little bird, but I'm not wearing fucking pyjamas, let alone matching ones when we have guests in our house."

Sansa pouted. She stuck that lower lip out that she knew he had a hard time resisting and worked it as he rolled his eyes at her. She could almost see him ready to cave when Harley barked.

"No," Sandor said as he pulled on black lounge pants and a Wolves' t-shirt. Sansa appreciated the view, his muscles rippling as he dressed.

Sansa batted her eyelashes.

"But you're so big and handsome. And if you do it, the others will," she said, trying to appeal to his ego.

"No," he said again, looking at the dogs. "Stop looking at me like that, Sansa!"

He was out the door with the dogs, but she wasn't deterred. Sansa would have Sandor in matching PJs – namely because she had to customize a set that would fit him and because if Sandor did it, so would the others. And there was no way he was raining on her happy Christmas parade.

She glided into the kitchen, wearing her PJ's, with a stack of boxes waiting for everyone, grateful Sandor had started coffee before going outside with the dogs. She poured her coffee and puttered, setting out a fruit tray and some baking Mama B had done, ensuring the stockings were properly stuffed and that the presents were all perfectly aligned under two of the Christmas trees. There were just too many of them for one tree to handle it all.

Mama B and Addam made it to the kitchen before Sandor came back inside.

"Merry Christmas, Sansa," Brenda said, hugging Sansa hard. Sansa knew she had won the lottery when it came to future in-laws, as Addam wrapped her in a warm embrace.

"Cute jammies," Addam said, giving her a wink.

"I'll let you in on a little secret – I have a pair for everyone, but someone is a grump," she told Sandor's parents.

Addam patted Sansa on the back and gave her a reassuring smile.

"He'll come around, I'm sure."

Then he winked at Sansa and went to grab a coffee.

Sansa was waiting when Sandor came back inside with the dogs. They raced off to the kitchen for breakfast, after getting happy pats on the head from Sansa.

"No, little bird. I won't wear those."

"But everyone will be wearing the same ones. And I bought thirty pairs. And think of the pictures! It'll be awesome, and if you're not wearing them, then no one will."

She pouted as he stood there, glaring at her.

"Please, Sandor?"

He crossed his arms as she sighed.

"Look, I get it. It's probably stupid to you, and it is sort of stupid. But this is our first Christmas all together."

She paused then and swallowed hard, then looked away. Before the first tear could fall, she was in Sandor's strong arms.

"Ahhh fuck. It's your mom, isn't it?"

Sansa bit back the sob and pressed harder into the chest.

"I'm sorry I'm such a shithead, Sansa. Of course, I'll wear the damn pyjamas."

"We did it when we were little. It sort of went away in the last few years, but if we're dressed, all the others will do it. And my mom will get such a kick out of it."

"Fine," he said, sounding resigned. 

"Plus they're more themed then matching," she told him, as his chest rumbled.

"Ok, little bird."

She snuggled in deeper, loving how strong Sandor was. "You know if you do it this year, you're going to have to do it every year."

He sighed. "Yeah." Then his hands slid down and cupped her butt. And squeezed. "You'll make it up to me," he muttered into her ear. Oh heck yah she would! 

Before they could do more, the front door opened, and Bran, Ric and Pod came charging in.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!" They cried.

There were hugs and kisses, and then Sansa got to hand out the pyjamas, and Sandor reluctantly took his. She followed him to the bedroom. Her guy was still grumbly, muttering some bossy little birds under his breath when he stilled.

"These are Wolves' pyjamas," he said, turning to her.

She clapped, so pleased with herself.

"I know! Each of the Wolves' players gets his jersey in PJ form, and then the rest of us have the logo, with someone's name on the back! We have matching bottoms as well. Do you love them?"

He rubbed at the fabric, and she could see he was a bit choked up.

"What name is on yours?" he asked, his gaze intense. She loved how cloudy grey his eyes went when he was feeling things deeply.

"Clegane, of course," she said. She turned, showing him. 

His lips were smashed against hers before she could even react, and Sansa held onto Sandor as he kissed the living daylights out of her.

She knew that she was pushing him hard outside his comfort zone – it had been full-on family for days now. But this seemed to make up for some of that. And soon enough, she really would be Sansa Clegane. 

"What if we take the 26th and just be together," she told him when they came up for air.

His eyes bore into hers.

"Yeah? Just us?"

Sansa nodded. "Yeah, big guy, just us. I'm sure Mama B and Addam could spend some time at Winterfell, and we can tell Ric our house is closed for the day. Just you and I, here."

"Clothing optional?" he asked hopefully.

Sansa laughed. "Yeah. Clothing optional."

"I'd like that," he told her, almost shyly, and she knew that he needed this. As much as she needed the business and insanity of her family and friends, Sandor needed the quiet.

Hockey pyjamas on, they went to find the others. Within minutes Ric, Bran, Pod and Sandor's parents were in their Wolves' Christmas jammies, ready to greet their guests, those coming from Winterfell, and those that had been asleep downstairs.

Wyn and Robb and Arya and Gendry were also dressed in Sansa's choices when Mini, Hoster, Cat and Ned walked through the front doors. Ned and Cat loved the matching jammies, but Mini promptly took one look at all of them and refused.

"I only wear silk to bed," she said, sticking her nose in the air.

Resigned, Cat patted Sansa on the back.

"It was worth a shot, but my mother has always frowned on whimsy. Now, which ones are mine?"

Somehow through all the hugs and kisses and well wishes, everyone managed to grab a drink and a seat and soon, the pure chaos kicked into high gear with the present opening. Sandor and Sansa had scored a loveseat that was in the back, near a window. Sandor was comfortable here, and Ric was more than happy to pass presents their way.

A little stack grew between them – the standard stuff like socks, perfume, ties, makeup, and chocolate. But more personalized things, such as a sweater Sansa had liked, and a new line of workout gear for Sandor.

When they got their individual presents for one another, Sansa handed Sandor a slim envelope.

"What's this?"

"Open it and see," she said, giving nothing away.

She saw him hesitate for a minute and knew this, and her other secret present would be appreciated.

"Not really used to getting a lot of gifts," he told her gruffly, but quietly so only she could hear.

"Well, get used to it. I like to shop." She gave him a soft kiss on his lips. "Open it, Sandor."

He did, and she saw his eyes widen in disbelief.

"Sansa is this what I think it is?"

"Yup. If what you think it is, it is a chance to build a customer chopper down in King's Landing with two buddies of Drogo's."

He shook his head in wonder. "Sansa, they have a three-year waiting list. And they only take clients that they trust and know."

"Well, Drogo and Dany helped me set it up. And one of them has a wife that loves my makeup. Trust me, and they were well compensated. It's fully paid for, and they know that the Wolves' have a shot at making the playoffs, so they'll fit you in whenever you call them. Do you like it?"

Sandor shook his head in disbelief, and then hauled her onto his lap. "It's too much," he mumbled into her ear but squeezed her tightly.

"Hardly. Here, one more," she said, producing a square box.

His eyes narrowed, and she grinned wider. "I love you, Sandor. And I love giving you presents."

"I feel like a spoilt little kid," he muttered, even though they both knew that he had never been. For a big man whose hands doled out their fair share of violence, he was surprisingly gently on the wrapping paper. He took the last of the tape off, and then his jaw literally dropped.

"It's a Philip Patek," he said, reverently.

"It's the Nautilus," Sansa beamed, opening the case to reveal the watch inside. It was worth almost sixty thousand dollars, and only a few were sold each year. Sansa had somehow scored one for Sandor.

"Sansa, it's all too much," he said, shaking his head.

"It's not. But I'll let you think it is so you can make it up to me in the bedroom," she whispered in his ear. He held her close, stroking a big hand down her back.

"Thank you."

When she finally convinced him to try it on, Sansa loved how the pricey watched looked against his tanned and tattooed skin. Lost in the arm porn, her fiancé treated her to, she missed when Sandor whistled to Rickon.

"Yo! Rookie. Take Bran and go get Sansa her presents," Sandor called, a huge grin on his face.

Sansa felt herself frown. There were no more presents. Sandor had given her Harley. That was more than enough. That and her beautiful engagement ring.

She narrowed her eyes at Sandor, who sat there grinning as a procession made up of her brothers came back into the living room, each of them carrying a bag, a box or a present until a small mountain grew in front of Sansa.

"Sandor, what is this?" It looked like he had raided every high-end fashion label in Westeros.

Dior.

Jimmy Choo.

Louboutin.

Lululemon.

Gucci.

Dolce and Gabbana.

And the granddaddy of them all.

Hermes.

"Sandor is that a….." Sansa went to reach for the Hermes bag and then snatched her hand back.

"Birkin," he finished smugly. "Open it and see."

She let out a little squeal and happily dove in. Where Sandor was respectful of the paper and wrapping, Sansa tore through it, until Harley was barking madly and thought it a game. She opened until she was surrounded by four new pairs of shoes, several beautiful designer blouses, three scarves, two new pairs of sunglasses and her beloved Birkin bag, in crocodile yellow.

"Thank you!" she squealed happily, holding onto her bag as she hugged him.

"The last one," he said, sliding out a long, slim jewelry box.

"Sandor no. This is all too much," she protested weakly.

"Open it, little bird."

She did and gasped. It was a necklace to match her engagement ring – a string of blue diamonds on a platinum chain that made a snowflake. The piece was stunning and clearly one of a kind.

"I had help with this one," he told her, looking towards Cat.

"It's beautiful," she said, even gaining Minisa's approval. Sansa held back her hair as Sandor fastened it around the slim column of her neck.

"Mine," he whispered into her ear as he pressed a kiss there.

She clutched his hand, turning, eyes shimmering with tears.

"Oh gods, Sandor, yes. I am yours. I love you so much. So very, very much," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck as he held her.

Their families gave them privacy, or as much as could be given in the mess of people, paper and present that over fifteen people generated.

Realizing that everyone would scatter soon, at least until brunch was served, they rose together, holding hands.

"Umm, there is one more present," Sandor said, shuffling at the bit when all eyes landed on him. Sansa clutched his hand as he took the manilla envelope from Sansa.

"This is to you both, from us," Sandor said, handing the envelope to Addam and Brenda.

"Sandor, what is this?" Addam said, voice no less commanding despite the low tone. Both men knew what Sandor had done, without exchanging a word about it.

"It's what sons do for their parents," Sandor responded. "Go on. Open it."

Slowly Addam did, sliding the paperwork out as Brenda gasped and gripped Addam's arm hard.

"What were you two thinking?" she whispered. "We can't take this. It's too much."

"We thought that we want you close and that the house is perfect. You'll be worth your weight in babysitting in a few years," Sansa said firmly. Both Sandor and his parents were locked in some odd starting contest.

"It was the least I could do. You have no idea what you did for me all those years ago," Sandor finally said. "I know you went without, so I could play hockey, have the latest gear and go to camps in the summer. Now I have more money than I can ever fucking spend, and if I can't spoil the only two people who cared about me before this fucking lot, what fucking good is it?"

Stunned silence met Sandor's outburst, as Sansa pressed closer to him. Addam threw his head back and laughed, and Brenda hopped up, clapping.

"There he is! Now we know you're serious," they cried and rushed over to hug Sandor and Sansa.

The room relaxed as the others shook their heads at Sandor. Cat and Ned were excited to have Brenda and Addam so close, and Sansa could see the real and abiding friendship developing between the two women. Cat needed more people like Brenda Marbrand in her life.

When the living room was cleaned of all debris, piles of presents neatly stacked, people separated. Some went outside the run the dogs, while some headed to the kitchen to start the brunch. A few went downstairs, while others set the table and moved around the house, talking with others.

Sansa was only too happy to be a social butterfly, putting Sandor to work in the kitchen with Mama B, Cat, Pod and Dacey.

Ned, Addam, and Hoster took up their seats in one of the living rooms, while Mini perched on a stool and critiqued the food preparation. Sansa perched beside her grandmother, figuring it would be her good deed of the day. She added more than one healthy drop of Bailey's to Mini's endless coffee until she buzzed, and her grandmother mellowed out.

It was loud, with the dogs inside and out, and people coming and going, but relaxed in the perfect way. Sansa got to spend time with Dacey, giggling about weddings and babies. They had a bottle of champagne between them. Somehow Sansa had misplaced the orange juice.

"Huh. These are not mimosas."

Dacey giggled. "Nope. Not mimosas."

They laughed some more, tucked away on the love seat where Sansa and Sandor had sat before.

"So, do you guys think you'll start soon?" Sansa asked her friend.

"Start what?"

"Having babies?" Sansa said.

The idea of them having their children close together was exciting, and Sansa knew Sandor didn't want to wait. Neither did she, but Robb wasn't as old as Sandor.

"I mean, I want kids, of course. But how would that work with the bar?"

Sansa snickered and pointed to Cat and Brenda, laughing over a recipe.

"Grandmas!" Sansa told her friend. "You know they are going to be so involved. They love you, Dacey."

"I love your family, San. They are so great," Dace said, laying her head on Sansa's shoulder.

"We're gonna be sisters, Dace."

"Yeah, we're gonna be sisters, San."

When brunch was ready, there was a toast to the blending of their family, the Wolves', to Cat kicking cancer's ass, to Sansa's success and Bran's achievements.

"We are so blessed, in so many ways," Ned said, holding Cat close. "We are rich in family and in love."

"Awwwww," everyone chimed together, as Ned waved a hand at them.

Robb picked up his glass in a toast, "Well said, Dad, but now, let's eat and go sledding!"

"Any special talents I should know when it comes to you and sledding?" Sandor asked, sotto voice to Sansa.

"Nope." She was a teensy bit tipsy, from the champagne and orange juice and the Bailey's in her coffee. She leaned against her soon to be husband, loving the rock that were his biceps.

"Are you drunk, little bird?"

"Nope. Tipsy," she announced happily.

Sandor snorted.

"You're so hot," she blurted out.

Sandor blushed but didn't deny it, smirking.

"Drunk."

He handed her a glass of water and black coffee.

"Drink love," he ordered gently. He also made her a massive plate of food, and she shovelled it in.

"Are you going to slide with me?"

Sandor chuckled. "Of course, little bird."

"You're such a good guy," she said dreamily, she drank the rest of her coffee.

An hour later, they were outside in the cold, bundled up. The day was beautiful, with bright sunshine. The dogs ran, madly up and down the hill. Ric was there, with a snowmobile to ferry riders back to the top. The best was that Sandor had her in his strong arms, and Sansa was living for it.

She knew they'd both been a bit over the top with the presents, but it was their first Christmas together, and it just felt right – to go a bit crazy.

Sansa loved all the attention and thought he'd put into her gifts. She had confirmed with Mama B and Addam that they would go and spend the night at Winterfell tomorrow, and Sansa was looking forward to 24 hours of pure Sandor time.

She saw that Sandor relaxed outside, throwing snowballs at her brothers, getting into wrestling matches. The dogs thought it was great fun, and piled on, to where Bran, Ric, Robb and Sandor all rolled around in the snow.

“Can you imagine when they have children?” Cat said, joining Sansa as they watched Sandor grip Robb in a headlock, rubbing his face in the snow. Robb surged upwards, breaking Sandor’s hold while grabbing a handful of snow.

“Yes. I can imagine. It’s going to be wonderful,” Sansa said as she hugged her Mom close. Even through the puffy winter jacket, Cat felt thin.

“Good Christmas? I mean, I know it wasn’t at Winterfell, but, was it a close second?”

“Oh Sansa, it was perfect. You did such an amazing job. You should be so proud of yourself.”

Sansa took Cat back inside within a few minutes, loving how her father came to check on his wife. Cat was going to take a nap in the last unoccupied guest room.

“San, Brenda said if you want to learn how to prepare a turkey, now is the time,” Ned told her.

Sandor, having heard her father, stopped what he was doing and turned to her. “Sansa is going to cook?”

“Yup,” she said, grinning.

Her fiancé scrambled to his feet, brushing the snow off his pants. The others protested. They had just made teams for an epic game of capture the flag, in the snow that they had planned. Rickon had claimed Sandor to no one’s surprise.

“Uh, well, maybe I should come and help,” he offered.

Ned chuckled as Sansa pouted.

“I’m only helping. I’m not that bad at cooking,” she said, arms crossed.

Then Sandor scooped her up into his arms.

“Yeah, babe, you are.”

“Am not,” she countered, as she snuggled deeper into his arms. It was nice having Sandor carry her like this. Very fair maiden and warrior-esque!

“You are. I’ll just come and make sure nothing goes wrong.”

Sansa didn’t say anything, secretly pleased. It meant more Sandor time with her. Sansa loved the North; loved things like sledding and skating and skiing. But her toes were cold and she wanted to be inside. Now she’d have Sandor with her so it all worked out pretty darn good.

Once inside, Sansa showed Cat the spare room and got her mother settled, while her Dad came to the kitchen to chat with the Marbrands, her and Sandor. Hoster was sleeping in front of a basketball game on television, while Mini was working on a puzzle in the study. Everyone else was outside, and Sansa passed a pleasant few hours, learning how to peel potatoes, prepare gravy and stuff a turkey.

With things well under control when it came to dinner, Brenda and Sansa laid out baking, hot chocolate and coffee as the games came out. People were scattered throughout her house, and Sansa loved how full it all felt. Her family and friends were here, safe and happy and loved.

Sandor took a nap on the couch, the two dogs snuggled up on top of his massive chest.

A few hours later, the doorbell rang and Jon and Wyn, along with Bronn and Jeyne were there. They had flowers and wine and some presents and there were more hugs exchanged.

When everyone finally sat down for the feast, prepared by Brenda and Cat, Sansa couldn’t help but lean against Sandor. Somehow they’d pulled off their very first Christmas and without any major incidents!

The best part was, there was still one more day before the practices and games would start back up for the Wolves’ team, and Sansa had Sandor all to herself. Then they’d be back into the swing of things, with her company going full tilt in the North. Sansa would talk to Pod, to see if he was willing to relocate up North, and she wanted to touch base with Shireen regarding an internship, depending on what she was interested in this spring once her semester was done. 

Sansa had a wedding to plan, and another to be part of, with Dacey and Robb. Her mother was starting another round of treatment in the New Year, and they were hopeful.

All in all, Sansa had no complaints. Coming home, coming back North had been the best move of her life, and she couldn’t wait to see what the new year brought, sure it would be filled with love, laughter and new opportunities for everyone she loved.

“Good Christmas little bird?” Sandor whispered to her.

“The best, Sandor. The absolute best. I love you so much,” she whispered, overcome with the idea that this was just the first of many she’d spend with this man by her side.

“I love you,” he told her, voice gruff with the emotion he felt.

Then there were swept up in the conversation around the table, contentment stealing over both of them, leaving them both warm and fulfilled in ways neither had ever imagined.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew, I feel like this story has gone through so much. 
> 
> We are now onto the final arc:
> 
> \- The hockey playoffs  
\- The Sansan wedding  
\- Babies! 
> 
> And then we are done


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> January and a whole lot of Sandor POV

* * *

[Picset ](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/624548585199009792/power-play-chapter-28)

**contains a mini spoiler 

* * *

_ January – Sandor _

After the chaos that was the days leading up to it and Christmas, Sansa had made good on her promise that they would spend Boxing Day alone. It had been the twenty-four hours that Sandor needed to recharge after so much family and before he had needed to be back at the rink.

He'd made good on his promise that clothing was optional with Sansa and they’d barely come up for air – only to feed themselves and take care of the dogs. The one thing Sandor was looking forward to when it came to his wedding, was the honeymoon.

New Year's had been spent with the team in Sunspear as they'd had games down there. Thankfully, Sansa had flown down with him, so they didn't have to ring in 2020 without each other. They'd left their dogs at home since Bran was still there with Cat and had a fun time with the team.

Back in the North, Sandor was solely focused on what the team had to do to prepare for the playoffs. They were more than halfway through the season, and the Wolves' were putting together one hell of a season. There wasn't another team within ten points of them in the standings, and Sandor knew that if they kept playing the way they were, they were a lock for the postseason.

He could almost taste that trophy, his second in two years. And fuck if he didn't want it, even more, this year. He loved his team and wanted to win it for the North.

Sandor had also started seeing a therapist.

Sansa had been great during Christmas, and Sandor had enjoyed the time with both their families, but it also made him realize that he wanted his own family one day, and he wanted to be in the best possible headspace for children.

With Sansa's help, he'd met a guy that was a veteran that now had a practice in the North.

Sandor had felt comfortable with him from the beginning, and he'd started going once per week. Somedays, he didn't have much to say, but other days, it was like the words didn't stop. Many of their conversations focused on Sandor's fears – namely if he'd be a good husband and father.

"What is your biggest fear when it comes to Sansa?"

Sandor had sat there for a long time, thinking about that.

"My entire life there has been violence. In my home, in my hobbies, and now in my profession. I would never hurt her," Sandor all but choked out, the very thought of that abhorrent to him, "But, it's in me, you know?"

"What do you mean, it's in you?"

Sandor scrubbed a hand down his face. The scarring was less due to his reconstructive surgery, but it was still there. Leaning forward, Sandor looked the man in the eyes.

"I don't even know how old I was when my old man hit me for the first time. If it wasn't him, it was my brother. Then, I found an outlet in hockey. Yeah, they still beat the shit out of me, but I channelled some of my rage into the game. When it became clear I was going to be a big guy, my coaches always pushed me to make that extra hit or be the enforcer on the team. My job half the time was to scare the piss out of the other team."

"And you worry some of this violence is genetic?"

"Isn't it? Aren't we what our parents are?"

The man had shrugged.

"My father was a minister who had never hunted or held a gun in his life. I went into the army at eighteen and killed a man by the time I was twenty. Genetics plays a role, of course. But I'd like to think that nurture does as well."

The conversations were deep and emotionally exhausting, and sometimes Sandor had to drive around a while before he went home, but Sansa was always there.

On therapy days, she cleared her afternoon schedule so they could just be together, and he often just ended up holding her. He'd shared a bit – but she didn't pry, only saying she was proud of him.

By the next day, Sandor always felt lighter, so he kept going back. It wasn't a magic bullet, and he knew he had things to work out, but it felt good to be doing something about the trauma he’d been through.

He spent time talking with his parents, as all the subjects on the house they had purchased had closed. He and Sansa helped them get it furnished and cleaned, and Sandor felt good that it would be ready for them when they moved north.

In February.

Mama B hadn't been able to wait and said she wanted to be in the North, now.

Sandor also found out that Brenda and Cat had formed a deep and abiding friendship – the women spoke daily and were thick as thieves. It was good for Catelyn Stark to have someone like Brenda in her corner.

"I just don't want her to think you're harassing her," he'd said one night when he was sitting on his couch.

He had an ice pack on his knee, having taken a brutal hit the night before in the game against the Capitals. He had the Lions' game on, but muted, as Sansa sat at the kitchen table, muttering about weddings, lipstick and Harry.

That last name had Sandor perking up a bit.

"Sandy! I am not harassing her. That woman has the shallowest friends on the planet. It's about time someone was there for her," Mama B huffed out.

"Alright, calm down," he muttered, thinking he shouldn't have mixed in. It was clear that Brenda and Cat were close and it didn’t bother Sandor at all. 

When there was a second Harry mentioned, Sandor told Mama B he had to go. He hung up and then just looked at Sansa, who was spitting mad as far as he could tell. Of course it had to do with her douchebag ex.

"Care to share?" he asked as her head whipped up.

She blew out a frustrated breath and put her pen down.

"It's Harry, the horrid."

Sandor arched an eyebrow. He still had the tape he, Rickon and Robb had made of Harry when they'd gone to get Sansa's stuff down in King's Landing, and he would use it.

"What's the shithead doing now?"

She sighed again.

"It's his social media posts. They are just borderline accusing me of using him for his connections, and that I'm not really the brains behind MiSa and how he was so hurt to find out about us dating."

Sandor growled and took out his phone. He had saved Harry's number just in case. His fingers flew as he clipped a short bit of the video they'd shot and then added:

**Sandor: Hey, Harry, long time no chat. Remember this?**

It was the line about his tiny dick and how he couldn't get it up.

"What are you doing?" Sansa asked eyes narrowed.

"Taking care of your problem," Sandor answered darkly.

"Sandor!" Sansa cried as she raced over to him.

He handed her his phone, having nothing to hide. It buzzed when it was in her hands. She couldn't entirely hide the smirk. Then she FaceTime'd Harry, who idiot that he was, picked up right away.

"Why is he harassing me? Sansa, I will press charges if you don't get your brute of a boyfriend to back off!" Harry cried, his panicked face filling the screen.

Sandor rolled his eyes. The guy should have been a fucking actor with that performance.

"Oh, stop. I've been watching your social media posts, Harry. Good to know how you question if I really had the intelligence to be the brains behind MiSa. We all know you had nothing to do with MiSa. Besides, I'd hate for this video to leak."

Sandor had opened his arms, and Sansa snuggled in. He knew exactly what picture they presented, and Harry swallowed hard. He couldn't keep his eyes from Sandor's massive arms and the tats that decorated them. Sandor might have flexed – twice – just to emphasize the point.

Harry's eyes darted between Sansa and Sandor and then landed on her massive engagement ring. Sandor's smile widened.

"You're engaged?" His voice actually squeaked.

Sansa rolled her eyes.

"As if you didn't know. It was everywhere, Harry."

Harry pouted some more, and they bickered back and forth, but in the end, the threat of the video was enough to back Harry off – for now.

When Sansa came back to snuggle with him on the couch, Sandor brushed his lips across her forehead.

"Get Wyn on it. Have her monitor things."

"Yeah, that's a good idea. I need to get help for Pod as well. My IG account is crazy to try to keep up with."

People seemed to be addicted to their day to day lives, which never failed to stun Sandor. Why the fuck anyone cared about his workouts or breakfast was beyond him, but care they did.

Sansa has also set up a proper studio in one of the bedrooms, with dedicated space for her hordes of makeup and was taping almost daily now, trying to get ahead.

Pod was moving here in a few months, and Gilly and Yohn, along with Sansa's new Chief Operating Officer Melisandre, were all working at her new office, the MiSa headquarters. Well, the part that wasn't under renovations.

Sandor had stopped in one day, and met Mel, getting a funny vibe from the woman. He liked Gilly – she seemed like a good person, but Mel had a look in her eye that Sandor didn't entirely trust.

When he'd told Sansa, she said she understood, but that Mel was the best of the best. In the end, it was Sansa's call, so he didn't say much.

Somedays he just sat back and watched her work, her mind a marvel. She was juggling two jobs and planning their wedding, which was growing large by the minute. Thank god she'd hired a wedding planner, some lady named Val to come and do some of that shit, or else Sandor was sure his soon to be wife would be pulling her hair out.

Mini was demanding with her lofty expectations of the wedding, and with Cat in treatment again, a lot of it fell to Sansa. Arya was no help, and Sandor personally wondered if they'd even get her into a bridesmaid dress the way she carried on.

Thank god for his mother, who Sansa relied on heavily, and was just another reason that they both couldn't wait until Addam and Brenda were in the North.

Dany was, of course, designing Sansa's dress, which seemed to necessitate them talking every other day about it.

The only good thing was that Sandor got to speak to Drogo and little Roc. The kid still insisted on calling him Mr. Hound, and Sandor got a kick out of him. Dany and Drogo were planning on coming North for the All-Star game, which the Wolves' were hosting this year, and Sandor promised Roc that he'd show him everything he wanted to see. Sandor had also arranged for Roc to spend time with him on the ice during the skills competition part of the weekend.

The North was also going through a brutal cold snap, so Sandor was grateful that Sansa's new office building was close to the rink. They would drive downtown together, and then she'd take the SUV to her building that had underground parking and pick him up in a few hours, and work from home the rest of the day.

The dogs, being Pitbulls, shivered and would only dash outside to do their business before racing back inside. Sweetie had found her' spot' in front of the enormous gas fireplace in the living room, and could often be found snoring there.

Ric more often than not had Harley with him, as the two of them chilled out together and played video games. Ric was over at their places at least as often as he was at his house, but Sandor didn't mind.

Sansa worked so damn much that it was fun having the rookie around. And Sandor was getting better at video games the more he hung with Rickon.

All in all, life was good for the Stark-Clegane household, and with the All-Star weekend fast approaching at the end of the month, Sandor didn't have a lot of worries. He'd been named as a starter, along with Tormund in goal, and Robb upfront. The North was well represented, and they'd have fun.

Ric was playing in the three vs three rookie game on Friday night, while the others were doing the skills competition Saturday night, and then the game on Sunday afternoon.

Mama B and Addam would be here for it, and with Dany and Drogo staying at their place, it was going to be a lot of fun.

Sandor had just finished a workout in the gym downstairs and was making his after workout smoothie when Sansa wandered in, a funny look on her face.

"What's up, LB?" he asked.

"Ummm, that was Dacey and Robb. They asked if they could come by. They need to speak to us about something."

Sandor frowned, not liking what that sounded like.

"Think it has something to do with your Mom?"

Sansa shook her head, taking a seat at the island. She had a worried look on her face, and Sandor hope he hadn’t jinxed anything by thinking things were going so good.

"No. I mean, Mom would have told me. Or you. Or called a big family meeting. I don't know. Dace seemed pretty upset. I hope things are ok."

Sandor pulled her into his arms and rocked her gently. Sansa's huge heart meant she worried about everything.

Within fifteen minutes, their front door was opening, and Dacey and Robb walked in.

Sandor noted three things.

They were holding hands.

Dacey still had on her engagement ring.

And they both looked stunned.

"Well, what's going on?" Sansa demanded, after the hugs and kisses.

Dacey and Robb looked at each other, and then, looking both sheepish and pleased, said, "We're pregnant."

There was silence until Sansa recovered and then a high pitched squeal as she launched herself into their arms.

"OH MY GOD THIS IS AMAZING!" she said, the happy tears streaming down her face.

Sandor clapped Robb on the back, pleased for his teammate and soon to be brother in law.

"Oh my god, how did this happen?" Sansa asked. Sandor wanted to know as well. The way he and Sansa carried on, he’d hate to think that birth control could fail that easily. Not that he didn’t want to get Sansa knocked up – but his woman wanted the big wedding first.

Dacey shrugged and then sighed.

"Remember mimosa morning, San? Well, yah. I was on some antibiotics, and the pill, and the booze and well… I'm a freaking statistic."

Robb hugged her closer, a huge grin on his face.

"Babe, you're not a statistic. We're engaged. And we're in love. And I'm rich. And now we’re having a baby. You’re my baby mama and I’m your sugar Daddy.”

Robb looked beyond happy with this turn of events.

Dacey rolled her eyes. "Your brother is a humble man, Sansa."

Robb's grin got wider.

"When did you guys find out?" Sansa asked as they took their seats in the living room.

"Yesterday."

"And who else knows?"

Robb and Dacey shook their heads.

"No one. We told you first."

"So, I mean, this is awesome and not that I don't love that you told us right away, but why?"

Robb and Dacey exchanged meaningful looks and then turned back to Sansa and Sandor. Dacey looked worried, and Sandor wondered what was going on.

"So we know you're planning your huge wedding at Winterfell this summer, and the last thing I ever want to do is step on your toes," Dacey said, tears now spilling over.

Sandor wondered if it had anything to do with the surge of hormones coursing through her body.

Robb squeezed Dacey's hand.

"San, we'd like to get married at Winterfell on Valentines' Day. Something small – just friends and family. We know that your wedding is there, and we don’t want to upstage you at all. But we do want to be married before the baby comes, and if we keep it small we might be able to pull it…"

Robb couldn't' even finished before Sansa had once again launched herself into his arms.

"Oh my god, of course! Of course!"

There was more hugging and crying, and Sansa and Dacey were squealing about dresses and weddings.

Sandor had always known that Sansa was one of the best people he'd ever met, but watching her not even hesitate about Robb moving his wedding up before hers, and at their family home, made him love her even more.

As Sansa raced to the kitchen to grab champagne and apple juice for Dacey, Sandor pulled her into his arms.

"You are amazing," he told her, his voice gruff.

"They're having a baby, Sandor. That's our niece or nephew! Of course, I wouldn’t be upset that they want to get married at Winterfell."

"I know, Sansa. It's incredible. And so are you. Don’t forget that.”

"They're family, Sandor. That's what family does. And you’re a sweetheart, you know that?”

Sandor didn't comment since he knew that wasn't what every family did. It was what the Starks did, of course, and the Marbrands. But not his. He was humbled by these people and how good they were.

Within an hour, the rest of the Stark clan was at their house, Arya having picked up Chinese food and Bran appearing on the big monitor on Sansa's iMac. It was an impromptu celebration that had everyone wondering what was going on.

When Dacey and Robb announced their pregnancy, there was the stunned silence again, before the hugs and tears came. Cat seemed particularly affected and was almost shaking as Ned held her.

"Mom, are you alright?" Robb asked softly.

"Oh, Robb, yes," she said through her tears. "I feel so blessed."

"And you're ok with a wedding in a few weeks?"

Cat gave a shaky laugh.

"I am. More than ok. This is wonderful. I get another daughter and a grandbaby.”

Sandor sat back, taking it all in. Eventually, Dacey made her way over to the love seat where he was sitting, Sweetie's head on his lap. His dog also needed space sometimes.

"Hey there, Uncle Sandy," Dacey said, giving him a wink and nudge.

His mouth dropped open before he rumbled out a laugh.

"Hey there, Mama bear," he responded back.

Then they both sat and watched the Starks, who were madly planning the wedding, arguing and laughing and throwing fortune cookies at each other. Even Bran said he’d make it back for the event.

"Hard to believe they let us in, huh?" Dacey said, shaking her head.

Sandor grunted. No fucking shit it was hard to believe. The Starks were like royalty and he was nowhere near their league.

"Yeah. Sometimes I still can't believe this is my life.”

"Me either. I have loved that shithead for forever,” Dacey snorted.

Robb glanced over and winked at his soon to be wife and mother of his child. The love he had for her was impossible to miss. It was hard to believe that was the same guy that was chasing bunnies at the start of the season. He was gone over for Dacey.

"He's a good guy."

"I know. He is. You should have seen him when I began to suspect something was up. Fuck, Sandor. I thought I was getting sick – like the big C. And he was a rock. Like it wouldn't' matter that his new wife was sick, he was just not leaving me, ever. He's gonna be such a good dad."

The Starks were like that. Loyal. Steadfast. True. And they didn't fucking cower when the going got tough.

"You're gonna be a good mom," Sandor told Dacey.

"I hope so. My Mom did the best she could by us, but it was harsh. Three girls in a single-wide trailer. She worked three jobs. Got sick, probably from smoking a pack a day, and lung cancer took her in six months."

_Fucking cancer_, Sandor thought. Who hadn't if affected here? Him, the Marbrands, Dacey and the Starks.

Everyone. He hated that word.

Dacey was crying, so Sandor draped an arm around Dace and hugged her to his side.

"I'm an emotional mess!" she wailed, and Sandor chuckled.

"Yeah, I imagine you are. You went all in fast, Mormont!"

It did the trick, as Dacey smacked him. Then she grinned at him.

"I'm going to like having you as my brother."

"Back at you, sister."

As Dacey went back to the family, Sandor opened his arms for Sansa. She snuggled in close to him, her eyes bright.

“Sandor, this is so exciting. I’m going to be an Aunty.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and just grunted, loving that she was so happy. Catelyn was brimming with joy, and even Ned appeared delighted, and somehow, Sansa didn’t seem to mind that her older brother was getting married first and having a baby before them.

“Sure, you’re alright?”

She squeezed him hard. “Yeah. I am. I want the big wedding Sandor. And I know the time will come for us to have our family. This is good. Really, really good. Look at my parents. They are so happy right now.”

“Yeah, little bird, they are.”

“Just like us. We’re all happy.”

With that, Sandor held her tighter, happy for their rapidly expanding family and the bright future ahead.

* * *

_ All Star Weekend – Sandor  _

The day after Robb and Dacey announced their pregnancy, Sandor and Sansa were standing at the Wintertown airport waiting for Dany, Drogo and Roc.

It was a Thursday morning, and the entire league was on a break with the All-Star festivities starting the next day, Friday night, with the rookie game.

"I'm so excited that they are staying with us. I wonder if Dany is showing yet. Oh! And Roc is going to love the dogs." Sansa took a deep breath and then frowned.

"Unless he doesn't like dogs."

She reached for his arm, a worried look on her face.

"Sandor, what if he doesn't like dogs?"

His fiancé was adorable, but her mind and her mouth worked at speeds that sometimes left Sandor baffled. Utterly, and completely baffled him. 

"Sansa, he's a little boy. Don't all kids love dogs?"

She worried her lip, and he pulled her closer.

"It'll be fine," he told her, hoping he wasn't wrong.

He was altered to the fact that the plane must have landed when he heard, "MR.HOUND."

Sandor turned to see Roc shoot away from Drogo and come barreling towards him, running as fast as his little legs could take him. Sandor was able to catch him and scoop him up in his arms,.

"Mr. Hound I'm here," he said proudly, once he was in Sandor's arms, just as Dany and Drogo caught up.

The little blonde was glowing, and resting a hand on her slightly swelled stomach, while Drogo was beaming.

"My man," he said, pulling Sandor and Roc in for a hug.

After Dany and Sansa had caught up, they all walked towards the baggage area to get their bags.

"Mama even packed my skates because she said I might be able to go skating with you when we are here," Roc stated proudly.

Sandor looked at Dany.

She wore the biggest grin he'd ever seen.

"We didn't tell him," she responded. "We thought the Hound should."

"Tell me what?" Roc said, a frown on his little face.

"How would you like to come to the All-Star game? You can skate on the ice with me during the skills competition and meet some of the other players," Sandor told Roc.

The little boy was speechless until he nodded.

"Oh, I'd like that," he said. "Will Ric be there? He's my second favourite player."

Laughing, Sandor told Roc and Drogo all about the game and how things would go, while Dany and Sansa caught up and talked about weddings and babies.

Forty minutes later, Sandor was climbing the hill to their home, excited to show it off. Dany and Drogo were the first people outside their family and teammates to see it.

"Wow, this place is like something out a fairy tale," Dany said.

She was wrapped up in a puffy white coat. Drogo, in the front seat with Sandor, kept shaking his head at all the snow.

"I'm from a fucking desert, man. This is wild."

Sandor smirked, "Yah, it takes some getting used to. At Sansa's folks' place, they have this huge outdoor rink. If you guys want, we can head down there later. They keep it open all winter. It's cold, but there are ways to warm up."

"A chance to skate with the legend himself? I'm fucking in," Drogo said, clapping Sandor on the back.

There were very few people that Sandor had met and liked immediately, but Karl Drogo was one of them.

They crested the top of the mountain, and then Sandor turned down their winding driveway until the house that was his and Sansa's came into view.

Drogo whistled while Dany squealed.

"Oh my god, San. It's gorgeous."

As they all stepped out of the SUV, Sandor heard barking and watched as Roc pressed closer to Dany.

"Mama, what's that?"

"Uhmmmm, yeah. Shit. We have dogs. Two of them. One's a puppy. They are really friendly, but we didn't ask if Roc would be ok with it."

"If it's a problem," Sansa started to say, just as Ric opened the door, and Sweetie and Harley ran out of the house. They went directly to Sandor and Sansa, wiggling their butts, tails thumping madly.

"Sit," Sandor commanded, and both of them listened.

Harley was practically vibrating in excitement, while Sweetie, more mature, gazed over at Dany, Roc and Drogo.

"Oh, she's beautiful," Dany said softly. "I've never had a dog. Can I pet her?"

Sandor nodded.

"Sweetie, gentle," he said, crouching down as Dany walked closer, Roc's hand tucked in hers. Sweetie was whimpering, wanting to lick and cuddle, but she sat still, as the two new people approached her, until Dany's hand found her head.

"She's so soft."

"Yeah, she's a love."

Roc put his hand out, and Sweetie licked it. He giggled, and she wiggled closer to her until her tongue came out and licked his cheek. He threw his head back, laughed, and then launched himself at the dog, wrapping his arms around her.

Touched, deeply, Sandor stood.

"Harley, release," he said, whistling for the pup to come to him.

Harley glanced longingly at the little boy and then ran to Sandor, who picked him up in his arms.

"Who's this guy?" Drogo asked. He was rubbing the dog behind the ears, as Harley's tongue lolled back.

"This is Harley. Sansa's Christmas present. He's harmless, but he's got a lot of energy. Didn't want him to overwhelm Roc."

It was soon apparent that the dogs were not going to be an issue. Roc was in love and kept calling the puppies, who merrily followed him through the house.

Dany and Drogo were suitably impressed with the home, and within an hour, Sansa had them all settled. She'd made tea for Dany, while Drogo and Sandor drank beers.

They were going to head down to Winterfell in a bit to skate. Ric was tagging along, and somehow Robb, Jon, Tormund and Bronn had found out about the skate, so they were going to meet them there as well.

Drogo and Roc were overwhelmed that they were going to skate with the Wolves' team, and Sandor had to admit it felt good to have their friends here. While Winterfell wasn't 'his' Sandor knew he was part of the Stark family, and it was with pride that he drove the five of them and Ric up to the Stark family's impressive home.

"Wow," Dany said, eying Winterfell.

"I know. It's a lot," Sansa said, somewhat embarrassed.

"No, Sansa, it's beautiful."

Sandor saw the little bird's shoulder relax, and soon Dany, Drogo, Roc and their dogs were being warmly welcomed by Ned and Cat.

The others were already there, and Cat, the perfect hostess she was, soon had hot drinks in everyone's hand.

For some reason, Roc gravitated to her, and everyone watched as Cat took him under her wing. He giggled with her; they found some cookies in the pantry and held her hand as they came back to the main room.

"He's a beautiful child," Cat murmured to Dany, her gaze darting to where Dacey sprawled on the couch, a bucket by her side.

"He's my light," Dany said, wiping away a tear.

By now, Sandor had figured out that pregnant women were hormonal as hell.

"And when is your next coming?"

"Six months," Dany beamed.

Then Roc demanded to go skating and the guys all let out happy cries.

Soon enough, they had all bundled up and were out on the ice. Sandor loved how Sansa put on her skates, while Dacey, Dany, Wyn, Jeyne and Brienne and Cat watched.

Sandor loved that his woman could keep up with the guys. It was sexy as hell, and he was hard as granite and thoroughly distracted by her.

Of course, Arya was there as well, beaking off at him every chance she got. She kept him focused on what he was supposed to be doing, rather than ogling his fiancé.

Rickon grumbled again, about Sansa, but no one paid him any attention, as Roc was over the moon excited to skate with the Wolves' players.

By the time night fell, everyone was sprawled around Winterfell, as Modane served huge plates of lasagna with fresh bread and salad.

The wine, whiskey and beer flowed, and Sandor sat back in wonder, glancing around at all these people.

"Hard to believe they all belong to us, isn't it?" Sansa whispered to him.

She was holding his hand beneath the table, as they watched Robb announce Dacey's pregnancy. Soon Bronn and Tormund had Robb in a bear hug while the women flocked to Dacey and congratulated her.

Sandor was convinced that had Drogo grown up in the North, he'd have been in the WHL alongside the rest of these guys – he just fit. It was pretty cool to see the big man from across the Narrow Sea find these people that got him, and Sandor knew his teammates were good guys. Tormund seemed particularly interested in Drogo, and the two of them were soon thick as thieves.

And all of Sansa's friends had loved Dany, who was more than happy to talk about fashion, weddings, and babies.

Sandor couldn't help but notice the look that Brienne shot Tormund when the subject of babies came up and the wildling had the balls to wink at her. Brienne blushed, and somehow Sandor didn't think it would be too long before they were announcing their own pregnancy.

After he’d finished his dinner, Roc had crawled onto Cat's lap, who indulged him. That made Sandor's eye sting, the image of Mama Stark with a grandbaby. Everyone knew Roc as good as belonged to her now, and plans were already being made for Dany and Drogo to come back. They just fit here, with all of them.

Roc kept giggling as their heads were close together, and by the end of the night, he was calling her Nana.

That set the women off on another round of weeping.

The past few days had been damn near perfect, and Sandor hugged Sansa tighter to him.

"Yeah, it's pretty awesome," he said, shaking his head again as he looked at all the people who were close to him. He was such a solitary guy his entire life, that it was hard to imagine this was now his world.

Soon enough, his parents would be here, Dacey and Robb would be married and then playoffs.

The best part was, as much as Sandor loved all of those things, and was eager to add a championship to the North, it was his future with Sansa that made him happiest. A few years from now, he could see them with more kids and marriages and life, just blessing them. Sandor also had a good feeling about Cat kicking cancer’s ass.

"Love you, big guy," Sansa said, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Love you, little bird."

Tomorrow Dany and Sansa would be deep into wedding shit, and Sandor was planning on taking Drogo and Roc to the rink so they could see the dressing room and soak up all the atmosphere of the All-Star game. He'd gotten them VIP passes, and they could go anywhere in the rink.

Sandor and Drogo also had plans to talk about the custom chopper that Sansa had bought for him for Christmas.

But for now, all of that could wait.

Sandor was content, to be in the here and now, with the woman he loved by his side, and people he loved and considered his family surrounding him. The love from those gathered here beat back the darkness that sometimes still sought him out, and Sandor knew he'd never give in to it.

He was not his father – and he knew if he were ever blessed with a child of his own, he'd never be like him. Sandor would love whatever family he had; and he’d do whatever he could to protect those vulnerable from monsters like his brother.

Sandor had his light and had found his way home, in the North, with Sansa by his side.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: 
> 
> A peep into the Wedding, and then we get to some of the good stuff. We are going to do some time hops as this story is winding down.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February and March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is my happy place and this chapter makes this all worthwhile.

* * *

_ February – Sansa  _

  
Sansa could hardly believe how many great things happened in February. It followed hot on the heels on the best January that she had ever had.

Living with Sandor exceeded every expectation she'd had when she'd imagined falling in love and finding her forever man. Their life felt like a fairy tale. They worked hard, loved hard and it felt like the universe was blessing them, time and time again.

Sandor had started therapy, which he didn't say much about, but still, Sansa thought he was a bit more at peace with his past.

The news that Dacey and Robb shared, still had Sansa smiling a few weeks later, and had added a crazy amount of work. But it would all be worth it to see her brother marry one of her best friends. The bonus was Sansa was going to be an Aunty! She figured it was excellent practise for when she and Sandor would have their own children.

Dany and Drogo had loved the North, and Roc, had been so happy, he'd been bouncing between Mr. Hound and Nana Cat. The All-Star game had been adorable, watching her huge fiancé have this little boy on his shoulders as they skated around the ice. Roc had been an enormous hit, with all the other players loving him, and Sandor had even brought Drogo onto the ice, giving the big man a thrill of a lifetime.

Addam and Mama B had moved North, happily ensconced into their new house just a few minutes from Ned and Cat. The welcome they'd received from all the Starks had warmed Sansa's heart. Their family was getting bigger by the day, and that was all Sansa had ever wanted.

Rickon loved Mama B, Ned and Cat were best friends with them, and Mama B actually squealed when she heard that Dacey was pregnant.

"Oh my girl," she'd said, hugging Dacey and pressing a hand to her stomach. Dacey had gained not one, but two moms and two grandmas.

Sansa had planned her and Sandor's first Valentine's Day together. Due to the Racey wedding (Ric had bestowed that name on them), and their crazy schedules, they had celebrated on February 5th.

Sansa had planned a night for just them, including dinner at the fanciest restaurant in the North, followed by his and hers massages at home, in their pool room, and then time for just them.

She had loved dressing up and going out with him, in their fancy clothes. The restaurant had defied expectations, the food fantastic, the atmosphere romantic. It was the type of place that gave them privacy, and Sansa laughed and smiled the entire night as she watched Sandor mutter about the small portions and fancy food.

Still, she knew he enjoyed himself. Sandor always strutted a bit more when she was on his arm, which Sansa loved.

They'd promised each other no elaborate gifts after their Christmas, so Sansa delighted in toque and mitts he got her, and Sandor loved the new tie clip she gave him.

Afterwards, he'd given her a look when she'd taken him downstairs to where the massage tables were set up.

"What the fuck is this little bird?" His scowl was adorable.

She'd laughed and told him to trust her, and an hour later, when they were blissed out and totally relaxed, her finance muttered in her ear that she had been right.

"Not that I like anyone else's hands-on me but yours," he'd told her, sinking inside her.

He'd had her in the pool where they'd swam naked and then again in their bedroom.

"Oh yeah, big guy. Your hands are magic."

After that, there wasn't much talking – just lots of kissing, moaning, and a very happy Sansa.

The next morning when she'd been in the bathroom, she saw whisker marks on her neck, the little love bites Sandor had left, and she glowed. He joined her in the shower, making love to her again.

"Fuck, need you so much," he'd grunted.

Sansa loved the depth of his feelings for her since she was right there with him. Every day she fell more in love with this man, and loved saying those words out loud – his eyes always went like melted silver when she did.

"Love you, Sandor. Love you," she repeated like a mantra, over and over again.

"Come," he commanded, pounding into her, reaching down to bring her over, just as she screamed his name. He groaned as he pulsed inside her, shuddering for a moment as their eyes locked.

"Fuck, little bird, I can't wait until we're married."

Her eyes misted. They both wanted children so much. They both wanted this life they were building. Sansa couldn’t wait to be a wife, and, then, hopefully, a mom.

"I know. Me too, Sandor. Me too."

“Mrs. Clegane,” he whispered into her ear.

“Damn right,” she told him, loving the look on his face when she said things like that. “But now, I’m going to be late if I don’t hustle. So time to let your fiancé clean up and this is to be continued.”

His grin was everything and Sansa knew she was a very lucky, very loved woman.

* * *

_ Robb and Dacey's Wedding – Sansa  _

Nine days after their private Valentine’s Day, Sansa stood in Winterfell's great room, holding hands with Sandor as Robb and Dacey pledged themselves to each other. They had forgone most of the wedding traditions, keeping it simple and elegant, with no one but themselves standing in front of the minister.

Winterfell was decorated in red, silver and white, and ever the romantic, Sansa loved it.

Dacey's dress was short but white, and she looked radiant as she became Dacey Stark.

Sansa had never seen her brother so happy. It was clear that Robb had no doubts about taking this big step in his life, clasping his wife to his side as the family swarmed them after they’d shared their first kiss as a married couple.

Mini, of course, thought the entire event slightly off colour, since it was so rushed, but a sharp word from Cat had her biting her tongue. Nothing would ruin her eldest son's special day. Nothing. Not even Minisa Tully.

Dinner was fabulous, catered by a local company, as the Starks celebrated the newest addition to their family.

"Soon enough, that's gonna be us," Sandor murmured into her ear as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his chest. They'd cleared a spot for a small dance floor, and Robb was swaying with Dacey in his arms.

"Yeah, it is." Then Sansa giggled. "Only our wedding is going to be about ten times this size."

It was a testament to how much Sandor loved her that he merely grunted and didn't say anything. Sansa knew that if he had his way, Sandor would most likely choose something like what Robb and Dacey had done, but that wasn't what she had dreamed of, and Sandor was a man that would do whatever to make her happy.

Before Robb and Dacey left for the night, Sansa pulled her brother off to the side, giving him a big hug.

"I'm so proud of you," she told him.

His grin was infections as he mussed his auburn curls.

"Yeah. She's amazing." They glanced over to see Sandor and Dacey chatting. The two of them had forged a strong friendship, which made Sansa so happy.

“I'm so lucky she waited for me to get my shit together."

Sansa rested her head on his shoulder.

"You're going to be a Daddy, Robb."

He wiped away a tear. "Yeah, I am." Then he squeezed her shoulder. "Hope you guys aren't far behind. It'd be pretty cool to have our kids close in age."

Sansa gave a happy little sound, the idea of being a mom, and being a mom with Sandor, a dream come true.

"Good job, big brother," she told him, seeing Sandor catch her eye.

He didn't dance much, but she could almost always get him to sway with her to a slow song. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to be in his arms; now and forever.

* * *

_ March – Sandor  _

Sandor shut the door on his SUV, palming his keys as he eyed up the neighbourhood rink. Coach Ned arranged for each of the Wolves' players to spend some time with some of the locals and the kids that played hockey up here.

Winter was holding on in the North, with the weather today still freezing and the threat of snow lingering. There was a lot that Sandor loved about the North, but the fucking weather was starting to drive him nuts. He was more than ready for spring.

It didn't help his mood that this shit wasn't something he was good at. He didn’t know how to make small talk with people. The only saving grace was that Ned had paired him with the rookie, and Ric, like with everything, wore that easy grin.

"This is cool, you know. Helping kids. I mean, I used to be one of these guys. Well, I guess not really like one of these guys, since my Dad and then Robb, but you know," he said, almost bouncing.

Sandor had no idea where his energy came from.

They had a small bag each, with skates, gloves and sticks so that they could run through some drills with the kids.

"What age did we get?" Sandor asked as he opened the side door.

"Ummm, six and seven years olds," Ric replied.

Sandor bit back the groan, wondering why the hell Ned didn't give him the twelve-year-olds. What the fuck did he know about talking to kids that young? He’d be better with the older ones that had some skills.

"Shouldn't be hard. They're Roc's age," Ric said.

That made Sandor feel slightly better. He got along with Roc just fine.

They knocked on the dressing room door and then entered when beckoned inside. It was crowded, as most kids had a parent there helping them tie their skates and get into their gear.

Of course, the moment they walked in, all heads swivelled to them.

It was mostly Dad's there, helping with skates, although there were a few Moms. The team had been told that the Wolves' players would be available after the practice to sign some autographs, so no one really swarmed them, thank god. 

The coach spotted them and hurried over, star-struck. It was still the best part of his 'job' – interacting with real fans.

After saying a few words, Sandor glanced around and saw a little boy with blonde hair sitting by himself. He didn't have his skates on, and the bag he had for his equipment was beyond a hand me down. It was ratty, almost fraying. His equipment wasn't much better.

Sandor's guts cramped. He'd been that fucking kid, and he got a funny feeling in his stomach. Sandor made his way over to the kid, who was gazing at him like he was some sort of hero.

"Can I sit here?" Sandor asked, trying not to sound too gruff as he pointed to an empty seat beside him.

The kid's blue eyes widened, and he could only nod, as he shuffled over a bit.

Sandor took a seat and opened his bag, swallowing hard, as he glanced at the boy.

The kid's hockey socks and his regular socks both had holes.

Rage coursed through him. What fucking good was all his fame and celebrity when there were still kids like this that went without?

"Your Dad here?" Sandor asked, watching the kid watch him.

The kid shook his head. Sandor wondered what was up.

"I'm Sandor. I'm gonna help Coach with practice today."

Still, the kid said nothing, although his eyes hadn't left Sandor's face.

"You're the Hound," the kid finally whispered.

Sandor gave him what he hoped was a soft smile, thinking that for some reason, this kid reminded him a bit of Sweetie and when he'd first met her.

"Yeah. That's me." Sandor laced up one skate. "You got a name?"

"Boone."

"Good hockey name. You like hockey?"

Boone nodded enthusiastically as Sandor laced both his skates. He turned to Boone.

"Can I help you with your skates?"

Boone bit his lip, and Sandor pulled out one of his skates. The blades were barely sharp, and there was no way they'd fit his feet. They were at least one size too small.

Sandor had to suck in a deep breath, lest his anger at how this kid was so underequipped roared through him. He knew this rink had a little store that sold equipment, so he rose up and looked down at Boone.

"Give me a minute, okay, buddy?"

Boone nodded and said quietly, "Okay."

Sandor glanced around the dressing room and spotted the coach. Something must have translated in his look because Sandor found himself outside the dressing room with the coach.

"Something wrong?" the guy asked.

Logically, Sandor knew this Dad was probably a good guy. Probably a volunteer with a kid on the team. He looked solidly middle class and would be able to buy his kid the stuff he needed to play the game. But he'd done a shit job at recognizing that one of the kids on his team was sorely lacking.

"Boone's equipment is shit. It doesn't fucking fit," Sandor snarled.

The man paled. "Boone?"

Fuck sakes the coach hardly knew who he was. Sandor knew all too well what that felt like. When you were poor, you tried your hardest not to draw any attention to yourself. And it wasn’t hard to be overlooked. Sandor would bet money that Boone never raised a fuss about anything, not wanting to draw more attention to himself.

"Blonde kid. In the corner. Holes in this fucking socks. What's his story?"

Sandor saw the moment the lightbulb went on in the man's head.

"Oh yeah, him. Late addition. Foster kid from what I know. Tragic back story. Both his parents were killed in a car accident when he was barely two."

"And his foster parents? Where are they?"

The coach looked around and then shrugged. "Honestly, no idea. They just drop him off. Kid's quiet – never an issue."

_Never an issue?_ Sandor wanted to punch someone. Too worked up to speak to this idiot, he went back into the dressing room. He stalked over to his bag, grabbed his wallet and then looked at Boone.

"Come on," he said.

Boone's eyes went wide before he stood and followed Sandor out of the dressing room, not saying a word.

"We'll be back," was all Sandor said. No one dared asked him where he was going.

They walked down the hallway, in silence, towards the store.

Once there, Sandor found an employee and demanded equipment that fit. Recognizing Sandor, the staff hurried to get Boone adequately outfitted.

"Add in a Wolves' jersey," Sandor demanded gruffly, his mind racing.

There was no way he was going to be able to walk away from this situation. When Boone had been dressing, Sandor couldn't help but notice how damn skinny the kid was. No fucking way he was in a good home. He must be barely eating.

"Hound?" came Boone's timid voice. Sandor turned and saw the boy holding back tears.

"Yeah?"

"I don't have any money," he said, a quiver there, as he looked at all the new equipment. It wasn’t even the best stuff.

For the first time in his life, Sandor was speechless. Wishing like hell that Sansa was here, as she'd know what to do, Sandor kneeled down, so he was eye level with Boone.

"You don't need money. I have money. Understand?"

Sandor wanted to make him promises that he'd never have to worry about money again – or food or a safe home. But even Sandor knew that he was jumping ten steps ahead. Still, Sandor knew. He just fucking knew that he’d met this kid for a reason.

Boone nodded, but still looked worried.

"What's wrong?" Sandor asked.

"He'll be mad," Boone whispered.

Sandor's blood turned to ice, and his stomach felt sick. Dread formed.

"Who?" Sandor managed to ask.

"My foster Dad. He'll be mad if I have new stuff. I don't get new stuff."

Sandor had to breathe deeply three times to keep his temper under control. He wanted to punch the foster dad into next week.

"Is he a big guy?"

Boone shook his head.

"Then you let me talk to him, okay?"

Boone nodded and then slipped his hand into Sandor's as they walked out of the store. Sandor’s heart tripped and fell.

When they got the rink, the team was just hitting the ice, and Boone looked up to Sandor.

"Thanks, Sandor."

Sandor had to blink rapidly to hold back the tears. He’d moved on from being Hound, to Sandor.

"You're welcome. Go find Ric."

With a grin, Boone skated on the ice.

Immediately, Sandor grabbed his phone and dialled Sansa.

"Sandor? What's up?" she asked.

Realizing he'd face-timed her and she could see the distress on his face, he told her all about Boone.

There were many moments in which Sandor loved Sansa. But when she quickly began taking notes, telling him to give her a few minutes to get things rolling, Sandor's entire heart was lost to this woman. She was everything. He’d never loved anyone as much as he loved her right then. She just fucking got him.

"I'll call my Dad and my Mom. And our lawyer. They'll know what to do. I can't promise a miracle today, Sandor. But we'll get the ball rolling."

"Sansa," Sandor choked out.

Fuck, he'd met this kid an hour ago, but it was like being struck by lightning. Sandor knew that Boone was supposed to be theirs. Still, Sandor was upending their entire life. Most women would have some serious issues with this.

"How… fuck… I can't ask this of you."

He suddenly felt awful. He knew how much they wanted children, but they weren't even married. And what woman would want some foster kid over having her own babies? They had no idea what issues Boone might have. And he wasn’t a stray puppy. If they did this, they had to be sure.

"Sandor, I love you. There is no way you can walk away from this kid. Besides, I imagine that Addam went through something similar. Give me a few minutes. What rink are you at?"

He told her, then still in a daze, hung up. His phone rang a moment later, and he saw his Dad's number there. He opened it up and told Addam what had happened. His father just chuckled and promised to come down to the rink.

Knowing that his family had his back, that they had Boone's back, allowed Sandor to step onto the ice finally, a weight feeling like it had been lifted. Sandor skated over to Ric, who was grinning at the kids. He was a natural with them, and at six and seven, some of them could barely skate. Still, they were listening intently to Ric, and trying their best.

Boone, now in his new, properly fitting gear, was flying, his smile huge. The kid was a natural.

Sandor lost track of time until he heard some cheering. Glancing over, he saw them.

His family. Hers. Theirs. They’d come. Because that’s what family fucking did. That’s what these people did. 

In the stands were Ned, Cat, Addam, Sansa, and some man that Sandor assumed was their lawyer, along with a mousey brown-haired woman. Sansa spotted him and waved him over, and Sandor skated towards her.

"Hey baby," she said, tilting her lips up for a kiss.

He gave her one and then met her eyes.

"Sansa, I can't ask this of you. Of us. We aren't even married…"

Her lips were on his again, and Sandor saw the tears.

"Sandor, I always knew this would be a possibility for us. Our lawyer says there are some steps – like a home visit, a criminal record check, and interviews. But given who we are, and the stability we represent, plus the fact that Boone is in an overcrowded foster home, they might be able to give us temporary custody within a few days."

A relieved breath shuddered out of Sandor.

"Sansa, he was practically in rags. He's skinny. And he's scared of his foster Dad."

"Come on, let's talk with the social worker," she said, taking Sandor by the arm.

He spent some time with the woman. At first, she seemed skeptical, but when Sandor told her about his own childhood, what he'd been through and then showed her some of the scars, along with Addam's testimonial, she softened considerably.

"I thought you were just some celebrities, pulling a stunt. My first job is to protect Boone."

Sandor’s respect for her grew.

"He's fucking scared of the Dad. Wherever you've placed him, it isn’t a good home."

The woman nodded.

"And because of that, we're taking him back into the state’s custody. We have some temporary homes, with good people that can have him until we can assess you two. I won't lie. It takes time, but if you're serious, we can expedite your application."

"We are," Sansa said, squeezing Sandor's hand.

"Sansa, are you sure?"

"I am." Then she laughed. "Oh, god, I guess I should meet him. Do you think he'll like me?"

Sandor shook his head in wonder.

"Little bird, how could he not?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like to talk to Boone as well," the social worker said. "Perhaps you could call him over."

Sandor knew their time on the ice was winding down, and he was a bit worried that the foster Dad might show up, but he caught Boone's eye, who waved at him. Sandor called him over, and the kid was grinning like a maniac.

"Sandor, my feet don't hurt!" he said happily.

Sandor ached for this kid, hoping that shortly, his life would be so much better. Because he’d be with them.

"That's great, buddy."

Boone gazed at Sansa, somewhat shyly.

"Who's this?"

"This is Sansa. She's uh… she's going to be my wife."

Boone gave her a timid grin. Sansa knelt down and held out her hand to shake his.

"Hi, Boone. I'm Sansa. Sandor tells me you love hockey."

"I do," he said, inching closer to her. She was so warm, and so inviting, and she was looking at Boone with such love already, that Sandor knew Boone would fall for her.

"How old are you?"

"I just turned six," he announced proudly.

"Six? Wow! You're so big."

The kid was almost in Sansa's lap, as she asked him about his birthday.

"I didn't have one. I was bad," he said, suddenly looking ashamed.

The rage was back, at what Boon had already endured. What kid was so ‘bad’ that he didn’t get a birthday?

Sandor shot the social worker a look. She looked worried, and between him, her and Sansa, they managed to get Boone to disclose the wretched home where he was currently living.

They sent him back on the ice after Sandor promised he'd be there after Boone was done practice.

Sandor turned to the social worker.

"This fucking ends now," he all but snarled.

She gave a weary sigh.

"It will. I promise. He won't be going home with them today. It is clear that an investigation is warranted. And if you want, you can have supervised visits with him over the next few weeks as we work through this process. He clearly warmed to both of you."

Both Sansa and Sandor assured the social worker that they would want to see Boone as much as possible and to tell him that they wanted him, whenever they were allowed.

The practice ended, and Sandor headed off with the team, noting how threadbare Boone's clothes were.

When they exited the dressing room, everyone was waiting for them.

Along with an angry-looking man, with thinning hair and a look of outrage on his face.

"You can't fucking take him. He's ours," the man snapped.

Boone shrunk against Sandor, who laid a big hand on his skinny shoulders.

"Don't worry, buddy. Things are changing," Sandor told him.

The man looked up, his eyes flashing in anger as he spotted Sandor.

"YOU! What the fuck is going on?"

Spittle was flying as he pushed the social worker out of the way, knocking her down and charged towards Sandor and Boone. Without even thinking, Sandor swung Boone up into his arms, as the boy clung to him like a monkey, to protect him. Sandor had seen that look before – often followed by a fist or a smack. Sandor knew this man was unfit to have children in his custody. 

"You're done," Sandor told the guy, catching Ned's eye.

Ned and Addam both stepped up, along with Ric, forming a wall between Boone and Sandor, lest Sandor smashed the guy’s face in.

"Sir, it's time for you to go," Ned said, a stern look on his face.

The social worker had just got to her feet, and she was livid.

"This WILL be investigated!" she said. "Right now, I am taking custody of Boone. He will remain in our custody until we determine what is best for him."

Boone was shaking, and Sandor turned to him.

"Don't worry, buddy. Sansa and I aren't going to let anything bad happen to you."

At that moment, the door the rink opened, and two police officers and Mama B entered.

"Where's my boy?" she demanded, before spotting Sandor.

Heedless of the angry man that was glaring at Sandor, refusing to leave the rink, she pushed past him. When she got to Sandor and Boone, she clapped her hands.

"Oh, my! Look at you! So big and brave. And you've met my Sandy!"

Boone gave her a little smile and a tiny giggle.

"Who's Sandy?"

Mama B winked at him and leaned in.

"That's what I call my Sandor. Did you know? We got him special, just like he wants you."

Sandor sent his mom a grateful look, as Boone scurried down him to talk with Mama B and Cat, while the police kindly escorted the foster Dad out of the rink. The man was screaming and making threats, clearly unhinged.

When it was just Sansa and Sandor, the social worker promised that things would move quickly.

"Quite frankly, we'll be doing a surprise visit to that house within the hour. This is very disturbing."

An older lady, with kind eyes, arrived, and it was explained that she offered temporary homes for children 'in transition;’ children like Boone.

Boone didn't seem to mind her; in fact, with his foster Dad now gone, the kid was busy talking everyone's ear off. He liked the Starks and Marbrands, and when Sansa and Sandor explained to him that they were going to go through the process of seeing if he could come live with them, but that it would take a bit of time, he was just so happy that going with the temporary worker didn't phase him.

"When can we see him?" Sansa demanded. Sandor squeezed her hand, loving her. She was so fierce. She’d be such a good mom.

"Fill out the paperwork today. We'll get the criminal record checks started. But maybe tomorrow? With supervision," she added. Both Sandor and Sansa agreed.

Then with hugs to everyone and a happy smile, Boone held hands with his new worker, chatting her ear off about his new hockey equipment. 

When it was just the Starks and Marbrands left, Sansa began to cry, and Sandor pulled her into his arms. He was a bit worried that this had all happened so fast and that she was having second thoughts. He couldn’t blame her at all. He’d dropped a bomb on her.

"I'm going to be a Mama, Sandor," she sobbed.

Relief coursed through him.

"Yeah, little bird. You are."

"He's ours, Sandor. Ours," she declared, eyes flashing.

"Yeah, Sansa, he's ours."

It was incredible to think about what had happened in the past three hours. Their lives had just changed, irrevocably, but in the best possible way. Sandor knew down to his soul that Boone was meant to be theirs.

He turned to see what their parents might say - if everyone would think they were nuts, but all he saw were happy and accepting smiles.

Mama B and Cat were beaming, talking about becoming grandma's quickly, while both Ned and Addam clapped Sandor on the back.

"I'm proud of you," Addam said, gruffly. Ned echoed the sentiment.

“That boy is so lucky to have the two of you.”

Then their lawyer cleared his throat and reminded them of everything he had to do to get things started. He promised he'd work miracles, at least as much as possible, and Sandor took Sansa's hand.

He'd woken this morning, a family of two. And he was leaving the rink, the possibility of being a Dad, very real.

"You're really sure?" Sandor asked Sansa one last time.

Her grin told him everything.

"Oh yeah, Sandor. I'm really, really sure. Now, let's go start this process so our boy can come home."

_Our boy._

_Home._

It sounded fucking perfect to Sandor.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, yeah, I know. That happened fast. Just ... please go with it. I know. I know the 'reality' of adopting and fostering. BUT, let's pretend that because of Sandor and Sansa being who they were, they got Boone out of that bad home and now he's safe. They will have to go through all the steps - and be thoroughly vetted, but I just loved it. 
> 
> Up Next 
> 
> You guessed it - more Boone!


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's POV on Boone

* * *

_ On the road to fostering – Sansa  _

Sansa was lost in her head as she followed Sandor's big black SUV downtown to Winterfell, to meet with their lawyer. Her head was spinning so fast as she thought about everything that had happened in the past few hours.

She'd always known that this would be possible for her and Sandor – fostering and potential adoption. Granted, she had thought they would be married and maybe with a child or two of their own first, just so that they knew that they were good at the parent thing. But she'd known. As much as she'd known the moment that he saw Sweetie that he had to rescue her. Sandor may be known far and wide as the Hound on the ice, but inside? He was a big gooey, soft marshmallow with a heart of gold.

The moment she'd seen his face on her phone screen, she'd known their lives were going to change.

So it wasn't that this was happening that had her spinning.

It was the ache that it might take so long.

It hurt that Boone couldn't come home with them. Today. Right now.

Logically, she understood everything that had to happen, all the procedures required, for his protection and theirs. She had quickly googled the steps to become temporary foster parents, and knew they were ideal candidates, even though they weren’t in the system yet. She had been prepared, fully prepared when she'd arrived at the rink to use her name, celebrity, and wealth to make this happen. To make Boone theirs.

What she hadn't been prepared for was to fall almost instantly in love with the little boy, who had a shy smile, was far too skinny for her liking, and had been dealt an awful hand in this life.

She wasn't prepared to be wiping away tears, hoping he didn't think that they were abandoning him as well as he walked away with his temporary guardian. She wished she'd started this process months ago, somehow anticipating that this might happen. If they'd already been in the system, Boone could have been home with them today.

She parked and then angrily reached for a Kleenex, just as Sandor opened her door.

He frowned, and she knew he thought she was having second thoughts

"I hate that he isn't with us," she told him, grabbing her Birkin.

She went to push past him when his arms came out and drew her closer. She shuddered out a breath and then sobbed a bit, holding onto him. He was such a steady presence, such a solid mass in her life. Sandor said nothing, just rubbed her back.

Eventually, she pulled herself together.

"How can you stand it? Knowing he's not with us?" she asked him as they walked, hand in hand across the fancy lobby of the high rise towards the elevators.

Sandor sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair.

"It's not ideal, and we both know that. But given what his life was like before today, I bet Boone is having a good day, Sansa."

She muttered darkly about people like Boone's foster Dad needing to answer for their crimes. She knew some got into fostering for the money, while others, darker reasons. She hoped to god that Boone had only been neglected and not abused.

Either way, no matter what he'd been through, Sansa was prepared to fight for him. He was as much hers as Sandor was. And Sansa would stand by him through whatever help he needed.

They were escorted directly into the Stark family lawyer's office and filled out endless reams of paperwork.

When their lawyer asked them if they wanted to remain foster parents, or if this was a foster with the idea of adoption, Sansa didn't even hesitate.

"He is ours. Adoption is our ultimate goal."

The man frowned. He'd known Sansa since she was a girl.

"Ms. Stark, sometimes children that come from broken homes are a handful." What a euphemism. She wanted to snarl at the man. As if anything that Boone might be going through would chase her away.

Her eyes glittered, and she tapped a finger on his expensive desk.

"Adoption," she bit out, realizing only when she felt Sandor's hand on her back how upset she was. She was vibrating in rage; impotent fury that this boy might have been abused.

"We know what we are facing," Sandor chimed in, voice hard. "Trust me. We know. Eventually, Sansa and I want to make this permanent. Boone is part of our family.”

The lawyer met Sandor’s eyes and nodded, as Sansa looked down at the box that asked about 'marital status.' She checked common-law, but it grated. Their wedding was only four months away.

Sansa didn't even dare look at Sandor when she made that choice, but her mind raced. Yes, she wanted a big wedding – the white dress and the six bridesmaids and the huge cake. But she wanted Boone as well. She wondered if having her dream wedding would somehow be a detriment to helping get Boone sooner.

"What's next?" Sandor asked, sitting back after everything had been done.

"Now, the state arranges home visits and background checks. The criminal record checks will be submitted, today. There will be interviews and then some visits with Boone. I've already heard from the social worker, and she suggested, if you two are free, to meet her and Boone tomorrow, at an indoor playground. Sort of a neutral location."

Both Sansa and Sandor agreed and thanked their lawyer for all his hard work.

"I know it's hard, and it feels slow. But we will move this along as fast as possible," he reassured them.

Having to be satisfied with that, they left.

Once back at their vehicles, Sandor pulled her close again.

"We need some time to talk," he told her. "What does the rest of your day look like?"

Sansa glanced at her watch. Incredibly, it was barely 2 pm.

She gave a little laugh. "I'm done. I told Royce what was happening, and he has things under control."

"Good. Can we go home?"

She saw the strain on his face and cupped his cheek. "Yeah, baby. Let's go home."

As she entered her house, to the happy yips of their dogs, Sansa began to view it through the eyes of a six-year-old. She wondered if Boone could swim? And would he be comfortable in the bedroom adjacent to theirs? And how might he like her to decorate it? She didn’t want to mess anything up.

Sandor was crouched down, telling the dogs all about Boone when her phone rang. Seeing the blocked number, she frowned and opened it.

"Hello, Sansa?"

"Yes, this is Sansa."

"Oh, good. This is Margret, Boone's temporary guardian."

Worried now, Sansa put the woman on speakerphone.

"Yes. Is there a problem?"

"Oh, goodness, no. Well, not really. Boone is quite excited about everything that's happened. He can't stop speaking about the two of you. No, that's not the problem."

"Oh god, there's a problem," Sansa cried.

The woman chuckled warmly.

"Not too big of one. It's about clothing."

"Clothing?" Sansa said, brows furrowing.

"Yes. Nancy, his social worker, went by his foster home. Almost nothing was salvageable. I have a few things that will do, but…"

Sansa interrupted.

"Tell me his size," she said, racing to grab a piece of paper and write it all down.

The size of the shoes and boots he'd need. Jackets. Snowpants. Mitts, gloves, toque. T-shirts, sweatshirts, jeans, sweat pants. Socks and underwear.

"And if it's not too much trouble, if you could maybe bring some things tomorrow, when we meet, I know Boone would love that."

Sansa promised she would and then hung up. She felt the tears gather. He had nothing! Nothing! What type of people did that to a child?

“He has nothing, Sandor,” she said, pain in her voice. This hurt so much.

“I know.”

Sansa bit back another sob. She knew that Sandor knew and that hurt as well.

"Come on, little bird; I'll drive," Sandor said, guiding her to the door.

"I'm so mad I could spit," she snarled, wanting to smack someone. Anyone. Preferably his foster parents.

Sandor gave a little sigh. "Yeah. I know."

Sansa paused before they were out the door. She took a look at her guy, and could see he was barely holding it together as well. She’d been so focused on herself, she’d missed what he was feeling.

"Sandor, are you sure? Boone is going to bring up a lot of uncomfortable memories for you. I mean, now that you're away from the rink, is this what you want?"

She saw him nod, then swallow as he gathered his thoughts.

"Yeah, Sansa. It is. It's hard to explain, but I knew that he was meant to be ours the moment I met him. I mean, the timing could have been better. And it hurts, to think that he's been going without. But, it's harder to think about him not being with us."

"Do you think they …. Do you think he was …. "

Sansa couldn't even finish that sentence, her stomach cramping in dread. She’d fucking kill those people if they’d hurt him like that.

"Ahh fuck, little bird. Come here," he said, as she sobbed again.

"I have this image in my head, Sandor. Of you. That age. And what you went through. And I know it's not the same, but oh my god, I want to be sick when I think they might have hurt him like that. Or worse."

Sansa knew she had led a privileged life. She knew that. Meeting Sandor had ripped away some of her blinders, but having Boone burst into their lives had stripped the rest away.

"We can't borrow worries. He was undernourished and clearly not getting the proper clothing. But he didn't seem to be in any pain, and he didn't flinch away from me. Gut instinct? He was neglected Sansa, which is bad enough, but I don't think they hurt him like that."

She nodded, taking a few deep breaths, their eyes meeting.

"He's not the only one, is he?" she said sadly.

Sandor shook his head.

"I know our lives are busy. Crazy busy, Sandor. But I want to do more. We should be able to do more. We're fucking Sansan," she said, startling them both with the curse word.

"Gods, you're amazing," he said, shaking his head in wonder at her. "So fierce, my little wolf."

"Yeah. And you're my guy, willing to go to the mat for me.”

Sandor nodded and gave her a grin. They both knew it was true. 

”Alright, let's go shopping!" She knew she had a glint in her eyes, and Sandor looked slightly worried.

When she got to the mall, Sansa was a machine, on a mission to get Boone everything. At one point, Sandor just stood back as she loaded him down with bags, having had to load the SUV up once already.

Sandor helped with a few things – the colours of shirts mostly. He also added a bunch of Wolves' merchandise. It was when they were walking by a toy store, that he stopped, gazing in.

Sansa saw it at the same time.

It was a stuffed animal – a wolf, white and grey.

"Do you think he'd like it?" Sandor asked her, a gruffness to her voice.

Unable to speak over the lump in her throat, Sansa could only nod.

Three hours later, exhausted and hungry, she finally said that was enough for now.

Sandor snorted.

"Fucking hells, you bought him so much shit."

Her eyes narrowed. "Kids need things, Sandor. And I won't have Boone worry anymore that he has to wear something he might not like."

Sandor shook his head. "Sansa, he has nothing. This is all going to overwhelm him."

"Well, I'll put it in his room, which I have to start to decorate. Maybe we can ask him what he'd like."

Sandor grabbed her arm gently, slowing her, so she turned to look at him.

"Sansa, just listen to me for one second, sweetheart."

She tilted her chin, afraid he was going to tell her she was overdoing it. She probably was, but she didn't care. She ached for Boone and didn't want him to think he couldn't have anything he wanted.

“What?”

Sandor gentled his tone, holding her close.

"Baby, listen. Boone is going to love being with us, not because of what we can buy him, or our fancy house. He's going to love being with us because he knows he'll be safe. There will be food. He won't be yelled at, or ridiculed, or smacked around. He's going to feel safe. And loved, Sansa. So much love is coming for him. That’s what counts.”

"So, I shouldn't buy him nice things?"

Sandor tugged her closer. "Gods, no baby. This is amazing. You're amazing. Just …." Sandor paused as if searching for the right words.

"The best thing we're going to give him is the fact that we want him. That we choose him. He's six, Sansa, and he's been in the system for over four years. No one has chosen him. No one but us.”

More information had come to them when they'd been shopping. Boone had been seventeen months old when his parents died and had been passed around to three different foster homes in just over four years.

"People like babies, Sansa. Kids his age already know that they aren't wanted. He has probably never had anyone come to parent-teacher day at school or show up to watch him play hockey. He's just … the best thing we can give him is us."

Sucking in a deep breath, she nodded. "Ok. Yeah. I mean, I get it. I do."

"Let's go home, little bird. I have practice in the morning, and you have work because you always have work. And then we'll go and see him in the afternoon."

Satisfied Sansa had done as much as she could for Boone tonight, and knowing Sandor was right, she tucked her hand into his. She'd known this man was going to make her a mom when he asked her to marry him; she just had no idea it would be as unique as this was. Boone was theirs, and soon enough, he'd be coming home.

* * *

_ Visit with Boone – Sansa  _

Sansa was pacing in their home, waiting for Sandor to arrive. More information had come through from Nancy, Boone's assigned social worker.

She confirmed that Boone had not been physically harmed, although the neglect had been severe. He was locked in a tiny, cramped, dark room each day, for upwards of fourteen hours, allowed out only to go to school and play hockey. The only reason hockey had been allowed was not to raise suspicions since his teacher has been asking about his extracurriculars.

_There were older children there, as well as some a few years younger. It was a multiplex, so somehow, they fooled the state into taking more kids than they were screened for. All the children under their care are now in our custody and pending the placement in new homes. I wish I could say this is an isolated case, but there are too many foster children and too few workers. _

Sansa's grief and rage had been palpable, thinking of the squalid conditions in which those children had lived. She'd spent some time in the spare room next to theirs, with paint samples and looking at children's furniture. She knew that Sandor said it wouldn't matter to Boone, but she wanted it to be perfect for him. She was thinking a sports theme in general, heavy emphasis on the Wolves', with lots of space for him to play.

She had also been buying books and toys online, using her Prime account to have everything shipped the next day. No way was Boone going to miss out on anything.

Sansa had packed a duffle bag full of new clothing for him, including the new snowsuit and outdoor gear, boots and runners. She'd ask Margret if he needed any school supplies and knew that Sandor had mentioned something about better hockey equipment, although she thought he'd done pretty well on that front. On top of the bag was the little stuffed wolf that Sandor had picked out.

The dogs alerted her to the fact that Sandor was home, and she was almost at the door just as he was coming in.

"Ready?" he asked, eyeing the bag in her hand, and the stuffy she was clutching.

"I am."

She'd dressed casually, in jeans and a warm sweater and tied her hair back in a long ponytail, forgoing her usual makeup. She also hadn't posted anything to IG for over 24 hours, which had Pod sending her a text message, asking if she was alright.

She said she was, but inside, she felt scraped raw. Boone was hers to protect, and Sansa was worried that her very public image might somehow harm him, or work against her when it came to granting them custody of him. She’d go to the wall for him, and right now, stepping back from social media just made sense.

"Nancy said she'd be there as well. This counts as a supervised visit," Sansa said, starting the conversation.

She knew that Sandor would have read the email about the neglect and wasn't sure if she should bring it up.

"Good. Speeds this process up," Sandor said, not taking his eyes from the road. He was coiled as tense as she was. They’d spent all last evening together, talking and making love, and Sansa knew they were on this journey together. It was funny how nothing else in her life mattered as much as Sandor and Boone.

"Yup. And she said that she could have someone come by to inspect the house in a few days. I know you guys have some games out of town this weekend, but I'll be around. My Mom and Mama B can be there. Oh, and the lawyer said that he filed all the paperwork with the agency and that things are moving."

Sandor reached for her hand, squeezing it hard.

"You're amazing," he told her. Sansa didn’t feel amazing. She just felt like half her heart was out there – and it wouldn’t be whole until Boone was in their home.

They drove in silence until they found the indoor playground. Sansa let Sandor grab the bag of clothing, as she clutched the stuffy. Her heart was racing.

Sandor opened the door, and they were immediately assaulted with the smells of popcorn, hotdogs and kids. And the sounds! It was loud, with kids running around on the indoor equipment. Off in a corner, Boone was eating what looked like a grilled cheese, swinging his legs and talking to Nancy and Margret. He spotted them, as it was hard to hide a man of Sandor's size, dropped his sandwich and raced towards them, huge grin on his face.

As if he'd done it a million times in the past, Sandor dropped to his knees so he could scoop Boone up, as the boy was laughing.

"You came! You came back!" he kept saying.

Sansa felt like a faucet; the tears never seeming to stop. She was wiping them away, hoping he didn’t think she was upset at seeing him.

"Of course, buddy. We told you we would."

He beamed at her and then snuggled deeper into Sandor's arms as her guy grabbed the duffle bag and walked towards Nancy and Margret. Both women were smiling at them.

When they were seated, Boone cocked his head.

"What's that, Sansa?"

She'd forgotten the little stuffy she was holding onto like a lifeline.

"Oh! Well, this guy is for you."

She held it out to Boone, who, unlike most children, didn't reach for it.

Fearing she'd done something wrong, Sansa glanced at Sandor.

"It's alright, Boone. Sansa and I picked it out for you,” Sandor told him gently. They had such a connection.

Tentatively Boone reached for it before pulling his hand back.

"I won't get in trouble?" he asked, and Sansa bit back the sob. Who the hell had raised him that he feared getting a stuffy? It was such a small gift.

"No, baby, you won't," she said, unable to help herself by tacking on the endearment. She wanted to clutch him to her and never let him leave. She wanted to hug him and promise she’d protect him.

He reached for it again, and cried out, "Oh, he's so soft. What's his name?"

He was squeezing the stuffy and stroking its soft ears.

"You get to decide."

His eyes lit, as if he’d never thought of that. Then he scrunched his little face up.

"I think I'll call him Houndog!"

Laughing through her tears, Sansa and Sandor agreed that it was a good name.

They spent an hour with him, as he ran and played, and Sansa and Sandor could talk with Nancy. She was upset at the home where Boone had been placed, the conditions they'd found. She also promised to move things along quickly. The Stark name carried weight, and the sad fact was, the system was overburdened. The mere fact that people of their stature were interested in a child Boone's age was almost a relief.

"I have a question," Sandor eventually said. "Can I still go to hockey practice with Boone?"

Nancy nodded yes, that it had been cleared and that it would be an excellent experience for them to bond.

They also confirmed the date for the home visit with Boone – ten days from now, which Sansa scowled at as it seemed far too long, but was reassured that was 'quick.'

“Not quick enough,” she muttered, frustrated.

When they said their goodbyes to Boone, Sandor hurried her out of the building, holding her when she collapsed into his arms. It just hurt, to leave him, to know what he'd been through, and that he wasn’t theirs yet.

"Alright, little bird calm down. He's in good hands right now, and soon enough, he'll be ours."

She sniffed and dried her eyes and then looked up to Sandor's face.

"I want us to get married. Soon."

His grey eyes widened in surprise.

"Sansa," he started to say.

She shook her head.

"Listen. I still want my big wedding. My insane wedding. But I think we should get married in a civil ceremony. It would help. And we could speed up the process from fostering to adoption."

Sandor cocked his head, gazing at her face. He must have seen the determination there.

"You know I'll give you anything you want. But I want you to take the weekend to think about it. We are going to be approved as his foster parents, Sansa. There is no rush."

"I know. But I don't want Boone to have any doubts as to how serious we are. I want to be a Clegane. I want him to be a Clegane. And that means that I want to be married."

Sandor chuckled.

"Stubborn."

"Determined."

"Take the weekend. I'm away, in Lannisport. Think about it."

She nodded but knew her answer would be the same. She wanted the best possible life for Boone, and she wanted that life to start right. She wanted him to know that she and Sandor were 100% committed to each other and to him.

Worn out, seeing that it was only four, she all but collapsed into her seat.

"Can we order food?" she asked Sandor as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Already done, baby. I'm picking up Thai."

Her eyelids felt heavy, and so she mumbled out a, "You're the best," and then let herself drift off to sleep, knowing Sandor would take care of everything.

This man was her rock, her heart, her entire life. And he was giving her everything, including a son that she knew was meant to be part of their life, now and forever. 


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansan prepares for Boone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real live hockey is back!
> 
> Enjoy

* * *

_  
Home Inspection: Friday – Sandor _

It was never easy leaving Sansa when the team had away games, but this time was particularly brutal. Everything with Boone was moving ahead, as planned. It was hard to believe that they'd met him on Tuesday, and now, they were in the process of being accepted as Boone's foster parents. Which made leaving this weekend unpleasant.

Sandor knew that Sansa thought he was handling this well. She was a wreck, at turns weepy, then angry, than happy. She was flying around the house, trying to get things ready for their home inspection today. It was at 9 am, and the team flight left for Lannisport at 11 am so Sandor knew he'd be cutting it close. But he wanted to be there for her.

Somehow, in three short days, Sansa had managed to transform the guest room next to the master bedroom into a perfect room for a little boy. It was blue, green and white, with lots of Wolves' things, including posters of the team, and Wolves’ bedding. There were two bookcases filled with children's books, a stack of unopened toys, a bin of more stuffies, a comfy beanbag chair, a desk, and a lamp.

She also had two dressers and a closet full of clothing, and still, she fretted.

"What if he doesn't like it?" she said, wringing her hands. She was standing in the middle of the room, glancing around. To Sandor, it looked absolutely perfect. Sansa’s taste was impeccable and she just seemed to know what Boone would need.

Sandor knew it was hard for her to understand the level of poverty that Boone had been living in. It was possible the room was ‘too’ perfect. Boone might be too overwhelmed with everything she'd done, even though it came from a place of love and concern.

"He'll love it," Sandor said, trying to reassure her.

She had read everything on how to prepare a house for an inspection properly, and had all their paperwork out and read. She'd even installed a keypad on the door to the pool so that Boone couldn't slip inside. She'd checked availability for him at the fancy private school where all the Stark kids went and lined up swimming lessons in case he needed to learn.

The dogs and all their paperwork and testimonials were waiting as well.

Personally, Sandor didn't think they could be any readier, but Sansa was pacing.

“Do you think so?”

"Sansa, it will be fine."

"I just don't want something little to be why we don't get him," she fretted.

Sandor knew that there was very little chance of that happening. They lived in one of the most beautiful houses in the North, had more than enough resources for Boone, and there was nothing in their lives to indicate that they wouldn't be excellent foster parents.

"Breath, little bird," Sandor said. He guided her out of Boone’s room and towards the kitchen so she could get some perspective.

"How are you not more worried?" she asked him, just as Sandor reached into the fridge to pull out a bottle of water for her. He handed it to her, pleased when she took a sip.

"Sansa, why on earth would they possibly deny us?" Sandor gestured to the house where they lived.

"Fuck, you've got every high-end school catalogue here, swimming lessons and piano lessons and whatever else lessons he might want. There are so many clothes in his closet that he'll probably grow before he can wear them all. And the kid has more fucking toys waiting for him than I had in my entire childhood. Plus, we're not assholes," he finished in a huff.

She stared at him before a huge smile lit her face.

"I wondered if I might see some emotion from you," she said, shaking her head. "You've been very calm about this entire process."

Sandor met her stare. He loved Sansa more than he loved anyone in his life. This woman knew he better than anyone, and she got him on some fundamental level when no one else did.

And still, it was sometimes hard for him to express himself. He was working on it, glad that he was going to therapy and had started that process.

But it was hard to explain what he was feeling.

This process was still difficult for him at times, as it brought back a lot of the things he'd suppressed or had kept to himself. When Addam and Brenda had gotten him, he'd already been twice Boone's age and so jaded and miserable he'd barely let them in. He didn't want that for Boone and knew that as great as things were, there would be times that the trauma Boone had been through would come back in ways they might not predict.

At the same time, he knew that they were meant to be Boone’s parents, so he wasn’t worried, not like Sansa. And he knew what it felt like, to have your entire life change because two good people took a chance on you. 

"Come here," he said gruffly, opening his arms to Sansa and she was there in an instant. He hoped he could calm her a bit.

"I love that we are doing this, Sansa. I believe with my entire being that Boone is meant to be ours. But he's already gone through so much in his life. I just don't want you to be disappointed if he struggles. When he struggles," Sandor amended.

"I know. I do, Sandor. I've seen you work so hard, and I've spent some time talking with Mama B and Addam, about what to expect" She paused. "Ummm, is this giving you flashbacks? To your childhood."

Sandor's arms squeezed her a bit tighter.

"Some. But, more to do with the neglect and poverty. My family was infinitely worse than Boone's, and they were my blood. So it's not the exact same."

They were quiet for a moment.

"I was hoping that when he settles, we might all go to some therapy together."

He heard her uncertainty as if she were afraid he'd object. He wouldn't, as they'd both been told it would be one of the fostering conditions. But there was going to therapy, and then there was being an active participant in the therapy – in believing in that process and working on things. That’s what Sansa was really asking.

"Yeah, that’s a great idea.”

She beamed at him, and Sandor still shook his head in wonder that Sansa Stark had chosen him.

"So we're doing this? Really, really doing this, right? Bringing Boone into our home.”

"We are."

The doorbell rang, and Sansa gave a nervous laugh, smoothing out her skirt and adjusting her blouse. She looked amazing, every inch the powerful and successful businesswoman she was. He'd donned a suit since it was a travel day for the Wolves' so he knew they cut an impressive figure for Nancy and her inspector, as Sansa welcomed them to their home.

"Wow. This is an incredible house," Nancy said, shaking her head as she glanced around.

Sandor said nothing but was secretly pleased. He'd come a long way from that poor kid that hid from the fury of his brother and the disinterest of his father, who often looked the other way when Gregor hurt him. Never would Sandor have imagined this would be his life – that he'd be in a position to adopt a child of his own. That he'd have a family, and be looked at with such respect from someone like Nancy. He was the bad kid that had made good.

"Oh! My brother, Rickon, he lives on the property as well. Here's all his information, including the criminal record check," Sansa said, handing Nancy a sealed envelop from the lawyer.

Nancy gave Sansa a warm smile.

"Breath Sansa. You're doing so well. Everything is moving along with your application. Now, show me your home."

A bark had everyone's head-turning. Sandor had put the dogs in the next room and knew they were waiting for his command.

"Who's that?" Nancy asked, curious.

"Ummm, our dogs. They're rescues," Sandor said, scrubbing at his beard. "They are pit bulls, but both well-mannered and nice. Sweetie is about three. Harley's younger, just a pup."

Nancy's eyes danced. "Oh, I love dogs. Can I meet them?"

Relief coursed through Sandor. Pit bulls still had a bit of a sketchy reputation, and there weren’t exactly one of those fucking doodle dogs that every other person seemed to have.

"Um, yeah. Of course." He whistled, and the dogs bounded over. Sweetie wiggled and instantly won Nancy over, sitting at her feet and offering a paw.

"What happened to her?" Nancy asked, noting the cropped ears and the scarring. Sweetie was well loved now, but it wasn’t hard to see she’d had a tough life.

"Dog fighting. She was a bait dog. Tied up, and other dogs were allowed to rip into her."

Nancy let out a distressed sound. "Oh, poor girl." Sweetie squirmed closer, her eyes warm.

"My friend Jeyne Poole runs the Wintertown Rescue. They were the ones who saved her. Sweetie was at the shelter for a year before she found Sandor. They bonded instantly." Sansa said that proudly as if he’d had anything to do with the dog choosing to trust him.

"Well, she has excellent taste," Nancy said.

Harley was whimpering, wanting some attention as well.

With a command, Sandor released the pup who squiggled his way over. Soon Nancy has both dogs almost smiling in happiness as she scratched their ears. After their dogs were satisfied with the attention, Sandor could only hope that Nancy would be as pleased with the house as she was with their dogs.

As Sandor watched Sansa lead the people from social services down the hall towards Boone's room, Harley trailing after them, he couldn't help but kneel down to give Sweetie another pet.

She licked his face and wiggled closer to him.

"You're a good girl. Soon there's going to be a little boy here, and he's going to need you to look out for him. He hasn't had the easiest life, but we know what that's like, don't we, my girl."

She whined a bit.

"Yeah, Boone is one of ours. Good girl," he told her, before he hurried to catch up with the rest. Like he'd known when he'd met his dog, Boone was his. And soon, he'd be in his forever home.

* * *

_ Boone's Hockey Game – Sansa  
_

Sansa had crashed hard after the home visit. Sandor had to leave when they were only halfway through, but the rest of the visit had gone well. Really well. They were impressed with Boone's room, although Nancy, like Sandor, expressed some concern that he might be slightly overwhelmed.

She'd gently patted Sansa on the arm.

"You have to understand how little he had," she said.

Sansa nodded. "I do. But that won't be the case here. If it's too much, I'll move it into another room."

Nancy had given her a soft look.

"Boone is a lucky boy," was all she said as the house tour continued.

When Sandor had to leave, he'd hugged her close and told her to breathe.

"Just let this happen."

"I will. Kick lion butt, big guy."

Sandor grinned. "Bet your ass, little bird."

Sandor kissed her, and she clung to him.

Sandor paused. "Hey, when you see Boone tomorrow, can tell him to watch the game?"

Sansa nodded. With Sandor out of town, she was going to go and help Boone with his skates and watch his practice/game. Sandor was upset that he was missing it, the first time in his career that something else seemed more important than a game.

"I will."

"Good."

After that, Sansa had shown Nancy the basement, including the pool and the huge backyard, the media room, plus where she did her YouTube videos.

She knew she was wringing her hands, but she couldn't help it.

"I know that I have a big social media presence. I won't lie and say it isn't part of my business. A big part. I can get you the numbers. But I want to reassure you that Boone will be protected from all of that. I mean, there is some of it, that I can't exactly help if someone takes a picture of us when we're out. But we can control a lot of the messaging, and I would hate for that to be why we can't have him."

"Sansa stop. We know who you are. Everyone in the North knows who you are. And I'm not worried. More will come out in your interviews with our staff and our psychologist. But I've seen how conscientious you are. I have no doubts you’ll protect Boone.”

“Ok, good. I’m glad. That you know that about me.”

When Sansa had finally seen Nancy and her inspector to the door, she'd sunk to her butt and rested her hands on her knees, against the door. The dogs were there instantly, nuzzling at her, and she took strength from them. After she picked herself up, she ran a bath, indulging in some pampering. She crawled into their bed as her phone chimed.

**Sandor: Made it to Lannisport, LB. How did the visit go?**

**Sansa: Good. Really good.**

Her phone rang. How he knew that she needed to hear his voice was beyond her, but she was grateful. She felt wrung dry.

"Hey baby, how you doing?"

She sniffed. "I'm good. Exhausted. I miss you.”

"I miss you as well. I wish I was there, but since I can’t be, can you nap? Take some time for yourself?"

She knew the guys had a game tonight, so she'd be watching that. But she had a few hours until puck drop.

"Yeah, I will."

"Things will work out, Sansa. Trust me."

"I do. It's just hard, waiting."

"Yeah. Alright, get some sleep."

She had and had woken up to watch the game with the dogs while eating one of the meals Mama B had left them. She realized while eating it, she'd have to learn to cook. There would be no way she could rely on Sandor's mother to cook their food when she was going to be a mom herself.

The Wolves' lost the game to the Lions, and the phone call afterwards had Sandor in a foul mood at his fellow teammates, whom he felt had dropped the puck so to speak.

Sansa promised to take pictures at Boone's hockey game the next day, and she understood that he was upset that he couldn't be there with them.

"It fucking sucks," he complained.

"I know."

"Mama B and Catelyn are coming with you?"

"Yup," Sansa said, popping her p. "They are. He'll know that we are here for him, Sandor."

"Good."

Saturday morning, Sansa cruised through the local coffee shop and picked up some donuts, Timbits and coffee for the team. This was old hat for her. She was a Stark and she was going to do this right for the parents and Boone. It brought back so many memories of watching her siblings play hockey, early mornings at the rink for her own practices, and just living on the ice. Starks were made to be in rinks. And now Boone was carrying that on for the next generation.

She walked into the same rink where they'd met Boone a few days ago, and found the dressing room where Boone's team was.

The coach spotted her first, waving her inside. The kids all cheered when they saw the donut box. Sansa's eyes immediately went to Boone, who was sitting by himself, with his new hockey equipment at his feet. He had most of his gear on correctly, although he was looking a bit sad. Until he spotted her.

His face broke into a huge smile. "SANSA!" he yelled. Sansa’s heart swelled as she heard him call her name. He was patting the seat next to his.

"Hey Boone," she said, passing the donuts off the coach. "An after game treat," before she beelined it for Boone.

She took a seat next to him as he leaned up against her.

"You came," he said, full of both wonder and joy, and her heart hurt.

"Yeah, sweetie, I came. I'll always come. Nana Cat and Nana B are also going to watch your game," she told him.

"Sandor's away playing hockey. Margret told me. We watched him on TV last night.”

Boone lowered his voice to a whisper. “He wasn't very happy with his team."

Sansa laughed. "No, baby, he wasn't. Do you want to say hi to Sandor, and then I'll help you with your skates?"

His face lit, and he was practically bouncing when Sansa opened her phone to Facetime Sandor. He would either be back in his hotel room or in the visitors' dressing room after their morning skate and Sansa knew he was expecting this call.

She wondered if he had any idea just how expressive he was with those he loved. His eyes went to liquid silver, and there was a smile on his face when they came into view. Sansa saw the familiar background of a dressing room, so she knew he was at the rink down in Lannisport.

"Hey, guys,” he said, voice a bit low and gruff.

"Sandor! Sansa brought donuts and both nanas, and she's going to tie my skates. And I watched you on TV last night." Boone’s smile turned to a frown. "You weren't very happy."

Sandor rumbled out a laugh. "No, buddy, I wasn't. We played poorly. Hopefully, things are better tonight."

Boone nodded. "I'm going to try hard today. The coach said I’m going to play forward. Is that ok?"

His bottom lip quivered with uncertainty, and Sansa couldn't help but drape an arm around him. Sandor looked almost startled.

"Boone, of course. You should play every position. Forward, defence, even goalie. That's what I did."

Boone's shoulder's relaxed.

“Ok good.”

Sansa wondered what hell these people had put Boone through that he got so worried about every little thing.

"Wanna know a secret?" Sandor said, lowering his voice.

Boone nodded and leaned closer to the phone, making Sansa smile. 

"Yes."

"Sansa is a better skater than me. And Rickon. And Robb."

His eyes widen, he turned to her. "Is that true?"

Sansa was blushing but nodded. "Yeah. But I was a figure skater."

"They're pretty," was all Boone said, as Sandor chuckled out a laugh, agreeing.

"Hey buddy, I have one more surprise."

Sandor held up his jersey, where there was a new patch on the shoulder. It was BC #10. Sansa knew that it stood for Boone Clegane and was the number of Boone's jersey since Sandor wore #8.

"That's my number," Boone said, slightly in awe.

"Yeah, it is. So if you're watching the game tonight, know that I'm missing you, ok?"

"I miss you too, Sandor."

"I'll be home soon, and we'll talk to Margret and Nancy for another visit this week. Now, let Sansa tie your skates and work hard."

"I will," Boone promised.

"I'll call you back in a bit," Sansa promised Sandor. She could see him struggling to get his emotions under control.

"Yeah, that'd be good."

When she put her phone down, Boone was smiling. She knelt down to tie his skates, remembering doing this for Bran and Ric on their outdoor rink.

"You're good at this," Boone said, delighting her.

She smiled at him. "Well, when you have three brothers and two of them are hockey-obsessed, you learn to tie skates. Although Ric complained I did them too tight. So you let me know."

Boone giggled. "I like Ric. He's my second favourite."

Sansa knew her youngest brother would be pleased.

When Boone was all set, he said a polite thank you and then Sansa stood.

“Are you going to be with the Nanas?” he asked her.

Sansa grinned.

"I am. I’m also going to call Sandor back so he can watch," she told him, loving that term. The nanas!

"Will Papa Addam be there as well?"

Sansa nodded. "He will."

"Ok. Thanks, Sansa. I'm excited about my donut after the game. It’s a special treat."

Sansa bit back the tiny sob that he thought a single donut was a special treat.

“Yeah, sweetie, it is.”

She helped him put on his helmet and then stepped back, watching him join the other kids. He was a bit smaller than some and definitely skinny and she wanted to give him a hug but she held back, knowing that was too soon.

Thankfully, another Mom stepped up beside her.

"Are you Boone's Mom? We hadn't seen anyone all year."

Sansa shook her head. "Not yet. But I'm kind of hoping he wants me for the job."

The woman gave Sansa a warm smile. “That’s pretty awesome. And just so you know, that's the most I've ever seen him smile all year."

The woman was kind, and Sansa warmed to her. Sometimes she was approached because of who she was. But today, it was because of who Boone was.

The woman held out her hand.

"I'm Lucy. My little guy is Jake. Maybe if things work out, we could get the boys together for a play."

Startled, but delighted, Sansa agreed, and they exchanged phone numbers before Sansa went to find her family, who were sitting with Margret in the stands as the kids shuffled towards the ice.

Addam had got Boone coming onto the ice. He only stumbled a little but found them and gave them a huge wave and a big grin.

"Hi Nanas," Sansa said, taking a seat by her mother.

"Nanas?" they asked, looking at one another. Sansa loved how close they were.

Sansa grinned. "That's what Boone calls the two of you. The Nanas."

Both women blushed and then grinned, commenting on how adorable he was.

"And you're Papa Addam," Sansa told him, giving Sandor's Dad a wink.

Addam smiled shyly, and Sansa wondered if they had thought this day would ever come – when Sandor would open himself up to the possibility of a family, and therefore them, grandparents.

She heard someone calling her name and saw it was Boone, who was waving at her.

If she hadn't been totally in love with him before, whatever part of Sansa's heart that wasn't already lost to the little boy, tripped and fell. She waved back, feeling her Mom hug her.

“He’s so lucky, Sansa.”

“I’m the lucky one.”

Boone was having so much fun, and Sansa got Sandor back on Facetime so he could watch him play.

"He's good. Got hockey sense," Sandor muttered, which was a huge compliment. Sansa knew that Sandor wouldn't care if Boone didn't love hockey at all. But since he did, it was something they could bond over.

Since the kids were little, there was more falling and stumbling then hockey, but it was obvious that Boone was better than most of the other kids. And he was clearly happy and enjoying himself. He must have turned to check that they were all there at least a dozen times or more, always smiling joyfully when he spotted them.

Sansa knew that there would most likely be some separation anxiety and some fear of abandonment with Boone. She'd already looked into a great family therapist, highly recommended by Nancy and booked their first appointment for April. She was planning on transitioning to working from home after part-time, and between her and Sandor, they would be there for him, through whatever he needed.

Lost in her thoughts, Sansa was startled back to the present when Cat laid a gloved hand on Sansa's thigh.

"Thank you for giving me my first grandchild, Sansa."'

Deeply touched, knowing that her mother fully supported them, Sansa laid her head against Cat's shoulder. "Thanks for being an awesome Mom. I'll probably have a million questions."

Cat gave a soft chuckle. "Oh, sweetheart, we all do."

The new treatment that Cat was on had gone exceptionally well, and the Starks had more hope than ever that Cat would be in remission within a few months.

"Thanks, Mom. For just being you," Sansa said, settling in with her mocha to watch the rest of Boone's game.

She knew in her heart that this was precisely where she was meant to be. In a cold rink, in the North, her soon to be son, skating his heart out on the ice below.

She didn't look like a woman that might be worth a billion dollars one day or the YouTube sensation that had over ten million followers. Or some trophy wife, married to arguably the best hockey player in the league.

She just looked like a hockey mom. A hockey mom that was proud of her kid, who was having the best time, freezing her butt off, in a tiny rink, on a Saturday morning, her family by her side.

This was her life. And Sansa freaking loved it.

* * *

_ Sunday Morning – Sandor  _

Their game Saturday night against the Lions had been ten times better than the rotten egg they'd laid down on Friday, and knowing that Boone was watching him made it all the better. Sandor was still beloved in the West, and during the intermission, when he was going an interview, he was asked if he'd ever considered resigning with the Lions.

"Your career started here, and you had many good years with the Lions," the reporter said.

"Yeah, I did. They were good to me. Tywin was good to me. But I've moved on. My life is in the North."

"So it's true? You are marrying Sansa Stark, daughter of legendary defenseman Ned Stark?"

"Yeah, she said yes. Not sure what she sees in a dog like me, but I'll take it."

“She’s a looker.”

The man smiled and gave Sandor a wink, which made Sandor growl.

"Moving on. Your team, the Wolves' are putting together a record-breaking season. Do you think your team has what it takes to win the Cup?"

"Hell yeah," Sandor said, before turning to go back into the dressing you, done with the guy and his asinine questions. That shit got old fast.

After the game, he texted Sansa that they were catching the charter flight home that night, and he'd be late, but not to worry.

She responded that she was glad he was coming home tonight and that she’d see him soon.

A few hours later, he slipped inside his house, the dogs there to greet him. He felt so much better knowing she had them to look out for her and shucked his clothing to crawl into bed beside her.

"Sandor?" she said sleepily as he drew her into his arms.

He pressed a kiss to her neck.

"Yeah, little bird, it's me."

She was warm and smelled fucking amazing, and he wanted her. But she'd had such an emotional week, and she was already back asleep in his arms. He'd have time enough to make love to her on Sunday and let her rest tonight.

The sunlight woke him, alone, and for a moment, disappointment roared through Sandor. He'd wanted to wake Sansa up by being buried balls deep inside her, making her moan.

He wondered where she was, and what she might have gotten up to when he heard Sweetie's soft woof from the kitchen. There was some laughing, and then a muffled crash and Sandor knew she was in the kitchen. He all but leapt from the bed, stopping only to pull on black sweatpants before hurrying down the hall.

The woman he loved was accomplished at many things, and would most likely be even wealthier than he was.

But she sucked at cooking. Anything. It was baffling for someone so smart.

He didn't exactly run down the hallway, but he walked fast, turning the corner to see an utter disaster in the kitchen, but a beaming Sansa.

"I made waffles! From scratch," she pronounced, looking proud as punch. She had a messy apron on, flour in her hair and drop of batter on her chin.

She had never looked so adorable to him as she did at that moment, and for a brief moment, he considered scooping her up in his arms and taking her back to their bedroom.

"Try some." The smile on her face was huge.

Fuck. There was no way he was getting out of this.

Sandor looked down to see golden, Belgian waffles on a plate.

They looked edible.

He glanced back up at her, and she handed him a fork.

Sandor took it and watched as her eyes widened as if she just realized he wasn't wearing a shirt. Smirking slightly, Sandor flexed and watched her nostrils flare.

"See something you like, little bird?" he asked, leaning on the island counter. Their faces were mere inches apart, and for a second, Sandor thought he might have avoided having to taste the waffles. But then she straightened, took a deep breath and wagged a finger at him.

"I know what you're doing," she said, eyes flashing.

He loved it when Sansa was a bit worked up. That temper she had was like watching an angry bee buzz around. It made him fucking want her. His cock was hard and achy for her.

"What am I doing?" He made a show of lifting the coffee cup to his mouth and taking a long pull of the lukewarm liquid.

Her eyes narrowed, as she waved her spatula with batter on it. "You're trying to distract me! With your muscles and the tats and the hairy chest – and all to avoid eating my waffles."

Sandor wiggled his one eyebrow and smouldered at her. "I'll eat your waffles, babe."

She actually stomped her foot and huffed and put her hands on her hips. He wanted to lick her from head to toe.

Sandor's grin spread, and then he reached down, adding some syrup and took a bite of waffle, prepared to choke it down.

His eyes widened.

It was delicious, easily as good as anything Mama B had ever made. Hungry now, and not just for Sansa, he quickly finished the two in front of him and then licked his lips.

"Amazing," he pronounced and saw her beam happily. She came around the island, and Sandor opened his arms, so she was pressed against his bare chest.

She leaned down, kissing his neck, and Sandor groaned at how good she felt. Tugging his lobe, she leaned down and whispered, "Now, you can eat my waffles."

Needing nothing else, Sandor heard her shriek as he scooped her into his arms and strode down the hallway towards their bedroom. She laughed as they walked, and Sandor knew she was happy, which made him feel great.

Today was shaping up to be a perfect day and one he couldn't wait to get started.

* * *

_ Sunday Night Dinner at Winterfell – Sandor _

After Sandor had made love to his soon to be wife, making her come several times, they spent a lazy afternoon with one another. Both of them had needed the time together, so they'd swam and eaten and talked. And made love, anywhere they wanted. Neither one was upset that soon their carefree lifestyle might come to an end – both were ready for this next step with Boone.

But it did feel awesome to have her in the study, against the desk, and then go down on her as she watched the movie in their media room. The last place he’d indulged was on the kitchen island, where Sandor had easy access to all sorts of fun foods like chocolate syrup, whipped cream and honey.

Her thighs had clamped down against his head, pinning him to her core, as he feasted, Sansa, making him hard as a rock.

Gods, he'd never get enough of her. He was so insanely glad she'd agreed to become his wife, for Sandor knew there was no one else that would ever do it for him. His entire heart belonged to this woman.

After he'd made her come around his tongue, he'd risen up and driven inside her, pounding away as she limply held on, until, finally, she rallied and squeezed him hard enough to have him throw his head back and bellow her name out. He finally got enough energy back, to carry her to the shower, where they cleaned themselves up and then got ready for dinner.

Just as she put the finishing touches on her makeup, Sandor walked up behind her in the mirror.

"Can we talk about the wedding?" he asked quietly.

He was a bit unsure, as he didn't want to upset her. But he'd thought a lot about it when he'd been down in Lannisport, and he just didn't want to do it – not the quickie ceremony. He wanted Sansa as his wife, and the sooner the better. But he didn’t want her to give up her dream day, which had somehow become his dream day.

He wanted to keep with their plans, and instead, include Boone in their big day so that the three of them would always have that memory together.

She nodded and took his hand, and they went to the comfy lounge chairs she'd put in their little sitting-room. Leaning forward, Sandor took her hands in his.

"Sansa, I want to wait."

She opened her mouth, and he gave her a look.

"Let me speak, and then you can answer.”

"Alright," she agreed, a bit huffily.

"Ok, here's the thing. We are going to be Boone's foster parents. Us being married right away won't affect that. And there is a minimum time frame we have to have him living with us before we can even consider adoption. I love that you would do this – that you want to do this. I want us to all be Clegane's as well. But I also know that our wedding day is going to be perfect. Because it's what you've been dreaming of your entire life, and now, Boone will be part of it. He's going to be part of it, babe. And that is going to make it even better. I want the big show, Sansa.”

She was rapidly blinking back the tears. "Are you sure?"

Sandor tugged lightly, and she was on his lap in an instant.

"Yeah, Sansa. I'm sure. Let's do it right, and make Boone part of it. Then he'll always know he was there, from the beginning. We did it with him and for us all. Let's have the big, insane wedding."

She gave a watery laugh, and cupped his cheek, stroking down his face.

"I love you so much, Sandor. So much. Thank you."

Fuck, she had no idea what those words did to him. "Love you too."

They sat like that for a time, content with each other, before they finally got up to go to Winterfell.

Pulling up to Winterfell, Sandor couldn't help but think how crazy it was he was comfortable here. Such an elegant residence would never have been somewhere he could see himself fitting in, but he was definitely part of the Stark clan.

Entering the foyer, he handed off their jackets to Mordane, before guiding Sansa towards the great room where everyone would be gathered.

They were last to arrive.

Dacey was lounged out on a couch, with Robb rubbing her feet. She was in yoga pants and a Wolves' t-shirt and had her hair in a messy bun.

"What's up, Mama Bear?" Sandor asked.

"All day sickness. Robb's demon spawn is trying to kill me before it fully gestates."

Robb just sent her a wicked grin. “My seed is strong.”

Anyone who heard him groaned as Dacey whipped a pillow at his head.

Rickon was arguing with Ned and Jon about a penalty he'd gotten on the weekend, while Arya, Gendry and Wyn were drinking beer and playing cards.

Cat was sitting in her usual chair, and a blanket tucked up around her.

There was a game on in the background and pleasant smells of roast beef dinner coming from the kitchen.

Before they took their seats, Sandor coughed so that everyone looked their way. They had decided that they would 'officially' tell Sansa's family about Boone tonight, while Sansa would inform her staff this week.

Sansa opened her phone and got Bran, who thanked her for being included.

"Well, as you all know, something pretty significant happened this week."

There had been mumblings, but no one outside of Ned, Cat, Addam and Mama B 'knew' about Boone. Rickon suspected, but only because he lived on their property, and he'd been with Sandor at Boone's hockey practice.

Sansa glanced up at him, and Sandor wrapped a big arm around her. And then they told Sansa's siblings about meeting Boone, his story, and what their plans were with him.

Stunned silence met their announcement until Robb leaned forward. He had a serious look on his face, laced with concern.

"Are you guys sure? This sounds amazing, but also, like a lot of work. A kid like that, well, he's going to have some issues. Not that anyone can blame him. But is this what you two want?"

At first, Sandor felt defensive. Who the fuck was golden boy Robb Stark to tell him about the 'issues' a kid like Boone might have? As if he didn’t fucking know.

Sansa squeezed Sandor's hand. He glared but held his tongue. Robb had grown up a hell of a lot. And Sandor was sensitive about this issue.

"What are you worried about, Robb?" she asked quietly.

"I just don't want to see you two get hurt. If this doesn't work out," he mumbled, looking almost embarrassed. “Sometimes these things don’t work out, and I know you guys. Your hearts are huge.”

Realizing that Robb was just looking out for them, Sandor relaxed and then took a seat, tugging Sansa down beside him.

"It's fast. And it's a lot. Boone is going to have stuff to work out. The kid's been dealt a shit hand. It could have been worse, but that doesn't make what he went through any less bad for him. So yeah, it's a lot. And he's going to be part of the family – this family. You people showed me what family really is. So, it's not just us. You all will be affected as well."

Ned had come to stand by Cat, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. Sandor knew they both wanted to leap in, to defend Boone and their choice to take him, but a look from Sansa had both of them biting their tongues. This was their battle – Boone was going to be their son.

"He's a cool kid," Ric piped up. "And a good skater."

"Yeah?" Jon said. "He likes hockey. That’s a plus.” He was grinning and Sandor knew that they had Snow. He hadn’t exactly had the best life either, so he got it.”

"Boone loves hockey."

Sansa took out her phone and showed them some pictures, and then some video of the game.

"He ummm, well he calls Mom and Mama B, the Nanas," Sansa told her siblings, shaking a bit. "He was in this really awful home, where he didn't have much of anything. When Sandor got to him, his skates didn't fit, and he barely has any clothing."

She turned and pressed her face into his shoulder, sobbing a bit. The rest of the Starks looked stricken.

"It's alright," Sandor said, trying to soothe her.

"Fuck San, I'm sorry. Of course, he sounds amazing," Robb said. It was more than clear that Sansa was already fully committed to Boone. He sent a distraught look to Dacey.

Arya smacked him lightly, up on the back of the head, perching on the side of the couch.

"Sansa stop. Robb was just attempting to do his big brother thing. You know Bonne'll have him wrapped around his finger in a minute. He sounds like a cool kid and that you two were meant to find him."

"Thanks," Sandor told Arya, meaning it.

"No problem. Now the important question is, who is his favourite player?" Arya asked.

Sansa gave a little laugh. "Well, we bought him a little stuffed wolf, and he named him Houndog, so…" Sansa shrugged as the other three Wolves' players all groaned.

“Of course it’s Sandor,” Rickon grumbled as Sandor smirked at him.

“Rookie, one day you can only hope to be me.”

After that, they were peppered with questions about the next steps, Boone himself and when he was coming home.

_Home. _

There was that word again.

It had been something that had eluded Sandor for so much of his life until he'd found it up here in the North.

"He is going to need some protection from the media. I'm going to need your help Wyn, with that."

Jon's girlfriend nodded. "Of course. We can do a lot, Sansa. And you'll have to decide how much you want to share on your platforms."

Grateful to her family, Sandor relaxed as he realized that the Starks would accept Boone into their family. The kid had no idea how much he'd lucked out like Sandor had when he'd run right into Addam and Brenda's arms. It felt right that they were doing this, almost like a full circle.

That night, back in their home, their dogs snoring softly at the end of their bed, Sandor held Sansa close.

"Thanks," he said, knowing he needed no more words than that.

"Always, my love. Always."

Sandor's heart settled, as he pressed a kiss to Sansa's forehead, contentment stealing over him in gentle waves. So much of his life had been hard; violent and angry.

Now it was filled with love and peace. Happiness and laughter. And at the heart of it all, Sansa.

"Love you, little spoon."

"Love you, big spoon."

Smiling, Sandor slipped into sleep, dreaming of the day they brought their son home and made their family complete.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> Boone comes home


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boone visits Sansa and Sandor's home

* * *

_ April: Tying up Loose Ends – Sansa  _

The weeks after the home inspection passed quickly. The Wolves' were winding down their season, making a final push to secure top spot for the playoffs, and win home-ice advantage for the playoffs. Sansa's business was booming, and she was already working on her summer and fall lines.

And they were busy doing a lot of work to get Boone home.

They'd passed the home inspections with flying colours. Sandor had given her a look that said she'd been worried for nothing, but Sansa felt immensely relieved when Nancy had called to tell them that. She'd also told them that everyone in their family had passed the criminal record checks, so there were really only a few steps to go before they could bring Boone home.

They were now allowed to speak to Boone once per day, to begin the transition for him to come home to them.

He'd been very excited to speak to Sandor about the hockey games, finding it thrilling that he'd known someone on television. His time at Margret's was nice, but both Sansa and Sandor wanted him to have more stability – they wanted him to come home with them.

They had seen him a few more times, supervised visits and had both attended a few training sessions at the foster academy.

Today there were a series of interviews with a child psychologist and some of the upper management type people from the child services offices. Both Sandor and Sansa were nervous as they drove to the meeting downtown.

"It's crazy to think of everything someone has to go through to get a child, and still know that there are bad ones that slip through," Sansa said.

"Yeah. But, there are good ones," he said. "We need to ask about Boone's extended family. I've heard of cases where the kid is in foster care for years, and the foster parents want them, but they can't. Dad's in jail, or the Aunt's in rehab, but then they get out and they get the kid back. I just don't want us to go into this blind, little bird, or with unrealistic expectations.” Nothing would stop them from giving Boone a home – even if that was temporary. But both of them hoped that Boone would be theirs forever.

She gave him a nod. "I know. Nancy sent over some articles and some websites. And some books, so I've been reading. As painful as it is, I almost want him to have no one so he can be ours."

Sandor grunted out his agreement.

They'd dressed nicely for the interviews, and entered the office's hand in hand, a united front. There was no mistaking the wealth they had, nor the fact that they were what others termed a ‘power couple.’ They were the IT couple right now in Westeros, and more than a few heads turned, seeing #Sansan walk into the child services offices in Wintertown.

They had been greeted warmly and then ushered into an office, where the process began. It was a grueling afternoon, but they felt assured that they had done everything they could to convince those in charge that they were the right people for Boone.

"What's next?" Sandor asked.

His foot was tapping, and Sansa knew that this entire process had been stressful for him. He'd been very open with some of his experiences, and that willingness to share, to open himself up, had impressed everyone. The fact that he'd started therapy on his own, that they were well-positioned financially to care for Boone, and they were very much in love, with no other children to compete for Boone's attention, all meant that they could devote resources to him and his care.

They'd grilled Sansa on her social media presence, which she knew they would. Rightfully so. She'd explained in detail what she did and how she might protect Boone. She also was open about them being celebrities, and that part of that came with scrutiny from the media. But she'd been passionate about what she would do to keep Boone out of the spotlight as much as possible.

Still, there were times it would be next to impossible.

"Sandor plays for the Wolves' and I attend most home games. Boone loves hockey, and I won't keep him from the rink. He'll be there with me. I can't tell you that his picture will never appear in the media, but we will also issue a statement asking for privacy if he becomes our foster child. And he will never be used to advance our celebrity status,” she’d added.

They'd nodded appreciatively.

There were stacks of glowing character statements – from the Marbrands, Royce, Podrick, Stannis, Brienne and Dany. Even Jaime and Tywin had submitted them on Sandor's behalf, much to his shock.

Sansa took Sandor's hand in hers, and she saw that grateful little smile he sent her.

"Well, now we set up a home visit with Boone."

Excitement thrummed through Sansa. She had been waiting for this moment.

"When?"

Nancy gave her a warm smile.

"How does tomorrow sound?"

Sansa and Sandor exchanged knowing looks.

"It sounds perfect."

Nancy leaned forward. "Now Sansa, do not go home and make everything perfect. You are bringing an active six-year-old boy into your home. It is good if he sees it lived in."

She gave the nod. "Alright. I can do that."

"As for the dogs, we've spoken to Boone about them. He's excited to meet them but nervous. He's never really been around animals."

Nancy frowned and then sighed. Sansa’s stomach churned, knowing that whatever Nancy was going to share with them, it wouldn’t make Sansa happy.

"The truth is, there are many areas in which Boone is behind, socially and academically. Beyond the limited interactions he's had at his school and with his hockey team, he was kept very isolated. Things like going to the park or the swimming pool might feel overwhelming to him. He wasn't even sure what a pet was."

Sansa's heart broke, and she squeezed Sandor's hand hard.

"Oh my god," she whispered.

Nancy’s eye were sympathetic.

"I won't lie that he has some things to overcome. With your resources and your clear dedication to him, we know that you will get him the help he needs. I'm going to recommend a new school for Boone. Ideally, he requires somewhere that has smaller classrooms, with great programs and lots of enrichment. I don't want to sway you, but…"

Sansa interrupted. "I've already looked into some private schools. At first, I was thinking about where my siblings and I went, but I found a different one. It's smaller, with great outdoor space, lots of art and activity and small classrooms. The teachers are trained to help with certain behaviours, and it is highly recommended."

Nancy let out a relieved sigh. "You must be speaking of Blackfire Academy. It is a great school Sansa and the one I think is the perfect choice for Boone."

What wasn't said was that tuition for a year was tens of thousands of dollars. Only the very wealthiest in the North could send their children there. For Sansa and Sandor it was no problem, and both hoped that it would be the perfect fit for Boone.

"And does he have any other family?" Sandor asked. It was a worry, and one he wanted to know about upfront.

Nancy shook her head. "No. His case is unique. Normally when both parents die, suddenly, as Boone's did, there is someone to take him. But his parents were both only children, with ageing parents that were gone by the time they died. He is all alone."

"Not anymore," Sandor said, almost a growl to his voice.

"No, not anymore," Nancy agreed.

She'd seen just how dedicated Sansa and Sandor were to Boone and she had a soft spot for them. They’d jumped through every hoop with flying colours for this child. They had also spoken about how they might use their celebrity status to help other children. Their hearts were huge, and Nancy knew that they would be great advocates for the foster system.

When they’d attended classes and met with some of the more seasoned foster parents, the feedback had been that Sansa and Sandor were very down to earth, asked lots of questions and listened to the advice of the others who had been doing this for a while.

With Boone’s schooling agreed upon, they discussed the time for a home visit. Sandor had a game the next night, but there was only a light practice in the morning.

"We can be ready in the afternoon."

Nancy said that would work. Boone had been excited to see his ‘new home.’

"So, how soon afterwards will he be ours?" Sansa asked, both eager and anxious.

"I believe this weekend. Saturday. It's really just paperwork now," Nancy responded.

Both Sansa and Sandor nodded, thinking that it suddenly felt so fast. But right. It was right that Boone would be coming home soon.

They were silent on the drive home; both of them lost in their thoughts. Walking into the house, together, their dogs were there, all wiggly and excited, and Sansa could suddenly see it. She turned to Sandor, seeing he wore a matching look of stunned amazement.

"Holy fuck, little bird," he whispered.

She giggled. "I know. I know. Oh my god, Sandor. This is happening."

She was in his arms as he swung her around, his big body shaking. When he set her down, he didn't let her go.

"Thank you," he said, a wealth of meaning in those grey eyes of his.

"Oh, my love, thank you!"

Sandor shook his head. "I never thought any of this would be possible, Sansa. None of it. And now, here we are."

"Here we are." His lips were suddenly on hers, and that need for him that always seemed to be there, swelled up.

"Bedroom," she managed to choke out as his lips were on her neck, making her wet, making her ache. Gods, she loved this man.

He didn't even respond, just scooped her up in his strong arms and strode down the hallway like some conquering hero from years gone by. She nuzzled at him, playing with the hair at the back of his neck, nipping at him.

He swatted her butt, and fresh desire thrummed through her blood.

Sandor didn't even bother closing the bedroom door, as if he knew this was the last time they might be so casual in their home.

"Strip," he commanded, as he put her on the bed, already reaching for his tie.

Sansa rose up on her knees and batted his hands away.

"Let me. I love doing this," she said.

It was so erotic to undress him and then have him return the favour. She got to touch him, stroke him, feel him harden and get needier as her hands roamed freely over his body.

She sunk her teeth into a pec, giving him a bite. Sansa glanced up and saw his eyes darken with desire.

"Mine," she said, tracing her fingers over his tattoos. She stilled on the dates, shaking her head at how big a softie her guy was.

"I'm getting more. When the season is done," he said suddenly.

Her eyes flew up to his, suddenly needing to know what he had in mind.

"What?"

He took her hand and placed it on his abs, down the side.

"Your name. Boone's. A little bird and a black dog. Sweetie and Harley. And I'm adding more dates," he said, showing her the places he intended to mark himself.

They were all about her, their family, their future.

Protectiveness, so fierce it almost staggered her, swamped Sansa. She rose up, digging her hands into his neck, mashing her lips against his.

"You are mine, Sandor. I can't wait to be your wife. To have a family. I can't wait for all the good things I know are coming our way. I love you so much. So much. You have to know that. You have to believe that," she cried.

He stilled her then, and slowed things down, gentled them.

"Sansa, I've never been loved by anyone the way that you love me. I believe it."

"Good," she said, nodding.

"Baby, I know you love me. I feel it, Sansa, in everything you do. Fuck, I phoned you up a month ago and said I wanted to foster a kid, and you've upended our lives to do this. Not just for you, but for me. No one has ever fucking gone to the wall for me as you do."

Then his lips were on her again, and they were tugging at each other's clothing. There was an urgency, a need to feel flesh against flesh.

"Hurry," she panted after he laved a nipple through her blouse. She needed his lips on her body, now.

Within moments they were both naked and any thoughts of languid foreplay were gone. The only thing that would make her feel good was to have Sandor inside her.

She gripped his ass, hard, and urged him closer, his eyes widening, questioning her.

"I'm ready," she said, knowing her body was primed for him.

Gods, she only had to look at this man to want him. He was the best addiction, and one she could willingly indulge in daily. And she would have that chance because he'd chosen her. He loved her. He wanted her.

"Love you so fucking much," he said, practically reading her mind before his thighs parted hers, and he surged inside her.

She arched, stretch to accommodate him and his impressive girth, feeling him everywhere. Then she was lost as he moved, his hands, his lips, his mouth, and teeth, everywhere, igniting nerve endings and making her body sing. He remade them there in that bed, stripped them both down to raw components and put them back together, so that when they tumbled over, they did so together, clutching at each other.

Afterwards, his delicious weight on top of her, she felt him kissing her neck.

"Someday, when its right, we're gonna give Boone a sibling Sansa."

"Oh, heck yeah, we are," she said, grinning at this man. "Maybe more than one."

He laughed and then rolled off of her, and she got an impressive eye full of muscles, tats and man. He was so comfortable naked as he walked around their room, cleaning up their discarded clothing and turning on a lamp as night fell.

Sansa was propped up on her elbow, lying in bed, just watching him.

"You're so beautiful," she said suddenly.

He turned to look at her, and gave a harsh laugh and a little shake of his head.

"Fucking think not."

She sat up, not bothering to cover up. The man had kissed, licked, sucked and loved every inch of her body. She had no secrets from him. She saw her ring flash in the light and grinned. She was going to belong to him and him to her.

"But you are. You are beautiful. Scarred yes, but rebuilt. It's like that pottery when it breaks, and they put it back together but with gold to fill in the cracks, so what’s made new is even stronger, even more beautiful than the original. That's you. You are more beautiful because of the scarring. Because of what you endured. Because of what you overcame. I’m so proud of you, and I’m so amazed that you chose to love me."

He stilled, looking absolutely stunned.

Her smile got wider as she left the bed, to come to him. He was statute still. She placed her hands on his chest and went on her tippy toes to kiss him.

"You are everything I never knew I needed. Brave. Strong. Gentle. True."

"Sansa," he said, a roughness to his voice that she'd never heard, watching as he shook his head. "My whole life has been marked by violence. What if …"

"No," she said, taking his face in her hands.

Cupping it. Stroking it. Accepting it. Loving it.

"No," she said, even stronger, shaking her head.

"You are not them, Sandor. You are not your father or your brother. You are all those things I just said. You are a good man. The best man. Every touch, every gesture. Everything you do for me, do for the dogs. Everything you do for Rickon, and Robb. For my mother. All of it is who you really are. And you will be the best Dad to Boone."

She was almost crushed in his arms as he shook. Sansa held on, knowing this was their final hurdle, as she gave him comfort. This big, strong man that would never hurt them. Eventually, he drew back, slightly, still looking at her in awe. She smiled and then slapped his butt.

"Now feed me," she said, giving him a wink.

It broke the heavy emotion of the moment, gave him a chance to compose himself. After they dressed in comfy clothing, prepared to spend the evening together. Before they left the bedroom, Sandor gently pulled her into his arms again. He pushed her hair back from her face, gazing at her in wonder.

"My whole fucking life, I've been waiting for you, Sansa. I love you so much."

He said it reverently as if she were the most precious thing in the world to him.

"And I was waiting for you."

He slipped his hand into hers. "Come on hungry bird, let me feed you."

Sansa grinned. "Ohh! Maybe I can help."

He mumbled something about her being a terror in the kitchen, but she heard the affection there, and as they walked down the hallway, Sansa couldn't help but glance into Boone's room.

Tomorrow he'd be here. Tomorrow he'd see it. And then, if everything went according to plan, by this weekend, they'd be a family. It was everything Sansa had ever wanted, and it was all because of one Sandor, the Hound, Clegane.

* * *

_ Boone's Home Visit – Sandor  _

Sandor's mind was as million fucking miles from the practice that Ned Stark was running this morning. It was just some work on the special teams – power-play and penalty-killing units, but since he played both, he was always on the ice. It wasn't hard work, not like the puke practices at the start of the season. But it was intricate and required concentration.

After he'd missed another fucking pass, disgusted with himself, he skated over to Ned. The man gave him a sympathetic look.

"Boone?"

"Yeah, he's coming for his home visit today."

Ned gave a nod in understanding, and they both stood and watched the second power-play unit come onto the ice.

"How the fuck did you do it? With five kids?" Sandor suddenly asked, needing to know.

Ned gave him a grin.

"I married a great woman, and I worshiped the ground she walked on. I knew when I was busy when I was playing, that Cat could handle the kids. And when I wasn't on the ice, I devoted my time to my family. That was what mattered. Family and hockey."

Sandor gave a little nod. Family and hockey. It sounded perfect.

An hour later, freshly showered and in his workout clothes, Sandor drove home. The nerves were inevitable. To a regular kid, their house would be 'cool' or 'awesome.' To a kid like Boone? It might be too much.

Not that Sandor would trade where they lived for anything in the world. He loved their place. He just hoped that Sansa wouldn't be crushed if it was a bit much for Boone at first.

Sandor remembered when Addam had brought him home from the rink, cold, scared and hungry, and he thought that their place was a fucking palace. It was compared to the shitholes where he'd lived. It was only years later that Sandor understood that the Marbrands were firmly middle class.

His and Sansa's place? It was one of a kind. Big. Beautiful. Artfully decorated. And miles from anything that Boone might have known.

He found her waiting for him, wearing leggings and a soft sweater in blue. She had no make-up on, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and warm socks on. There were cookies on the counter, and he looked to them.

"Mama B came and helped me," was all she said.

Together they waited, quietly, until there was a knock on the door. Rising, Sandor ordered the dogs to stay while he took Sansa's hand, and they walked to the front door.

Opening it, they saw Boone with Nancy. He had his little wolf stuffy and a shy smile on his face.

"Hi Boone," Sansa said, crouching down, so she was eye level with him.

"This is a big house," he whispered, moving away from Nancy and closer to Sansa. Sandor watched as the woman he loved held out her hand, and Boone slipped his into hers. His entire world was these two people, right here. He wondered if she had any idea how fucking awesome she already was at being a mom?

She gave him a warm smile. "It is a big house. It is where Sandor and I live."

"And me?" he asked, a bit hopeful, a bit scared as if he wasn’t quite sure.

Sansa glanced up at Nancy, who gave the nod. Permission granted. Hell yeah, Sandor thought.

"Yeah, baby, with you. If you want to live with us, that is."

Too choked up with emotion, Sandor watched as Boone's big blue eye glanced past him and Sansa, and into the house.

"For evers and evers?" he asked, and Sansa gave a little cry.

"Yeah, buddy, forever," Sandor told him, meaning it. Boone's other little hand slipped into Sandor's, and he stilled, seeing it there. So much fucking trust. In him. In them. Sandor vowed to never do anything to break that trust. He’d go to the wall for this kid.

"Come on, let's show you your new home," Nancy said, clapping her hands, making the moment more lighthearted.

The door closed behind the four of them as they walked with Boone towards the enormous great room/kitchen area. Boone was quiet, saying nothing as he glanced around. Sandor was laser-focused on the boy, wanting to make sure none of it was too much. When they got further into the house, his eyes went wide when he spotted the dogs. They were sitting there, waiting patiently in the living room, wiggling.

"Who are they?" he asked, looking up at Sandor.

Sandor knelt so that he was the same height as Boone.

"The bigger one is Sweetie. She's had a hard life before she met us. But we found her and brought her home and now she’s happy. And the puppy, his name is Harley. Do you like dogs?"

Boone glanced between Sandor and the dogs.

"I've never had a dog."

Sandor gave the nod. "Dogs are very loyal. They are very loving. They're excited to meet you, but they are well trained, and they'll wait for my command. Do you want to meet Sweetie?"

Boone gave a shy nod and then pressed closer to Sandor.

"Sweetie come," Sandor said. She walked over, ears back, tail thumping to sit in front of Boone and Sandor.

"Boone this is Sweetie. Ask her to shake a paw, and hold out your hand," Sandor instructed.

Boone let out a giggle as Sweetie’s paw thumped into his hand.

"Sweetie kiss," Sandor said, and she licked his face. That had Boone throwing his head back in laughter, clapping his hands.

"Me next!" he cried, and then it was a mess of boy and dog as he hugged her hard, and she wiggled in his arms.

Sandor rose, seeing that Harley was practically vibrating. That dog was the biggest love of all, and so gentle. He called the puppy over, who wiggled his way in so that Boone was being licked and loved by the two dogs. Sansa pressed closer to him, as Sandor opened his arms to her, and they watched the happiness that was happening on the rug.

After that, Boone was talkative as he ate cookies and drank milk, swinging his legs on the stool at the island, as the dogs sat worshipfully at his feet. It was clearly love at first sight, as Boone kept laughing at them.

"These are good," he said, munching away on the cookies Sansa and Mama B had baked him.

Sandor chuckled. “Glad you like them.” The kid had a milk mustache and chocolate on his lips, and was beaming.

"Ready to see your room?" Sansa asked when he was done his snack.

He hopped off the stool and took her hand.

"Is it in the basement?" he asked quietly. "Cause that's where my old room was, and it was dark and had spiders and it smelled funny."

Sandor's fists clenched, and he wanted to hurt the people who'd had Boone before them.

Somehow, Sansa kept it together.

"No, sweetheart. It's beside our room, upstairs. It had lots of bright windows, and a bed, with a desk and lots of toys."

His eyes brightened considerably at that.

“I like toys,” he told them.

As they walked down the hallway, Boone grew quiet, until finally, Sansa got to a door. The dogs had followed and now sat as if knowing this was a crucial moment.

"That's our room," she said, pointing to the master bedroom. "We will be right beside you. So if you are ever scared, we are right there."

Boone gave a small nod. He looked up and saw his name on the white door.

"That's my name," he said, slightly in awe.

"Yeah," Sandor said. "It is."

Then he reached over Sansa's head and turned the knob, revealing the perfect little boy's room beyond. Boone's eyes went so wide that Sandor was worried they might pop out of his head. But Sandro got it. He did. To Boone, this must seem like a dream.

"Come in," Sansa said, gently tugging his hand.

"It's mine?" he said, still not believing it.

"Yeah," Sandor said. "Sansa put up posters of some of the Wolves' players, and there are some sheets, with the team logo. But we can change things."

Boone slipped his hand into Sandor's, and together they entered the room. Boone said nothing but took it all in, from the toys in the corner, the big bed, and the stuffies waiting on the bed. There was a closet full of clothing, and his own bathroom and lots of light and windows like Sansa had promised.

"Do you like it?" Sansa asked.

Sandor heard the worry in her voice.

"Will you take it away if I'm bad?" he whispered, suddenly afraid.

Sansa dropped down and opened his arms, and he was there, sobbing into her shoulder as she hugged him hard. She glanced up to Sandor and he saw that fierceness in her eyes. Sansa was all mama wolf now, protecting her pup.

"Gods no baby. Never, Boone. This is your room. Your forever room."

He hiccupped and wiped his eyes and then got curious, touching the things that were now his, but it was tentative. Sandor knew it would take time. Time to believe that this was real. Time to trust them. Time to love them.

"Come on; I have something to show you," Sansa told him, taking him by the hand again.

They walked back towards the kitchen, were Sansa showed him a chart that she had pinned to the wall. It had all sorts of different feelings, and there was a person for Sandor, Sansa and Boone, each with their face on it.

"That's me!" he cried, seeing his face.

"It is. And each day, all of us will move out face to what we are feeling. That way, we all know. So if you're mad, or sad, or happy, or worried, we know. And you'll also know how Sandor and I are feeling."

Sansa had worked with their child psychologist to help put some things in place that would help Boone express what he was feeling. They didn’t want him to get frustrated, or be unable to share his feelings with them.

"And I won't get in trouble if I'm mad?"

Sansa shook her head. "Nope. Being mad is an emotion. But it doesn't make us feel good. So it's better if we know you're mad or sad so that we can help you.”

Boone nodded thoughtfully.

"Why don't I move mine?" Sansa said. She leaned down and took her face and put it to happy, which made Boone grin. "I'm happy because you're here."

Boone glanced at Sandor.

He took his face and moved it to happy as well.

“I’m happy because you liked the dogs. You were gentle with them.”

Smiling, Boone stepped up to move his face. He stopped on the face that was happy as well.

"I like it here," he told them shyly.

After that, they showed him the rest of the house, including the pool area. He had been swimming before and wasn't afraid of water, but he just had a hard time believing they had a pool in their home.

Three hours later, he was tired and a bit cranky, and it was time to go.

"But I want to stay!" he said, stomping his foot. "You said this was my new home!" his lower lip quivered as he glared at Nancy.

Sensing a meltdown and knowing that he was overwhelmed, Sandor sat on the couch and patted the seat beside him. Boone came running over and all but glued himself to Sandor's side.

For a moment, they were quiet.

Then Sandor held out his hand, and Boone put his little one in it.

"This is your new home, Boone. But there are a few more things that the adults have to take care of. Think of how special it will be, on Saturday, when we go to your hockey game, and then afterwards, you come home with Sansa and me."

"You're coming to my game?"

Sandor swallowed around the lump in his throat.

"Yeah buddy, I am. So it's hard to leave today, but you get to think about being here in two sleeps. That's not that much, is it?"

Boone shook his head. "No." He sighed. "I can wait."

Sandor chuckled out a laugh. "The Wolves' play a hockey game that day as well. Maybe, if you want, you can come and watch."

His eyes went huge. "A real game?"

It was the last home game of the season before the playoffs started. Suddenly, Sandor desperately wanted Boone there was Sansa.

"Yeah, buddy. A real game."

"Oh, I'd like that," he said nodding.

After that, he was fine to slip his hand into Nancy's. She gave Sandor and Sansa hugs and told them that they'd finalize the paperwork tomorrow.

Sandor held Sansa in his arms as they watched Boone chat happily to Nancy as she buckled him into his booster seat.

"He liked our home, Sandor," Sansa said, almost in awe.

Sandor dropped a kiss to her forehead and squeezed her shoulders. "Yeah, babe. He did."

Boone was coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> Boone comes home! The playoffs are here! Sansa seeks an intern to help Pod, who moves North!


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boone comes home

* * *

_ Boone’s Hockey Game – Sandor _

Saturday came quickly enough, though it was such a monumental day Sandor was awake by 6 am. There was no way he could sleep anymore when he knew that Boone came home today.

Sansa was fast asleep beside him. They'd had their entire family over for dinner last evening, making a big deal out of the season's first outdoor barbeque. It was only April 4th, and there was still snow on the ground, but Sandor, Rickon and Bran had cleared the lower deck area, where the outdoor kitchen was. The Starks it seemed liked to cook outdoors whenever possible and by anyone’s standards, it had been a long winter.

The dinner last night reminded Sandor of that very first event he'd attended at Winterfell, way back last September, when he'd first seen Sansa with her family. It was crazy to think how much had changed since that day.

Everyone was excited that Boone was coming home, and with a few of the teammates he was closest too, people like Tormund, Bronn and Jon, their house was packed when they made the 'official' announcement that they were fostering a child.

There had been hugs and tears and a big cheer, and somehow, even a cake. Sandor had shaken his head in wonder at just how damn supported he was here. Mama B and Addam were well and truly part of the Stark pack, and all four of the new grandparents, fast friends.

Sansa’s siblings were excited to become uncles and aunt, and Arya was even happier that Boone didn’t need to be potty trained. She shot Robb a look and told him that she would never change a dirty diaper. Robb just shrugged, rubbing Dacey’s belly.

“Bet you will,” he said, giving her a wink. She’d stomped off then, but not before Sandor caught Robb’s wink.

“She’s blustery, but in the end, even Arya will come around.”

Later, Bronn found him. Sandor was sipping coffee since they had a big game the next night, plus all the Boone stuff and there was no way he wanted a fuzzy head. He was sitting in a chair by the fire, watching everyone chat and eat and drink. Bronn of course had a beer in his hand, but he’d nursed it for a while now. No one wanted to lose their last home game tomorrow night, even though they didn’t need the points.

"You're sure?" his best friend asked him, no judgement in his eyes. "Big fucking responsibility this. More than just takin' in a stray dog."

Sandor appreciated Bronn's blunt questions. They'd been through so much together. If there was one person that could speak to him like this, that Sandor didn’t want to punch in the head, it was Bronn Blackwater.

"Yeah, I'm sure. He just fits. I knew it the moment I saw him."

Bronn didn't do much more than grunt and pat Sandor on the back. He’d known that Sandor had always wanted a place to belong – a family.

"You bringing him to the rink tomorrow? Early, before the game?"

Sandor knew that's when Bronn had his back, 100% when it came to Boone. It felt fucking awesome.

"Fuck yeah. The kid loves hockey. And he's good," Sandor told his friend, pride for Boone already there. There was a part of Sandor that couldn’t wait to see if Boone loved hockey as much as he did. And even if he didn’t, if there was something else he wanted to do, that wouldn’t matter to Sandor. All that mattered was that Boone would be with them and that he’d be happy.

Now Saturday was here, and Sandor was lying in his huge bed, with Sansa breathing softly, still a bit in awe at how everything had come together. Sansa's words had lodged themselves deep within his psyche. She was so sure of him, of his love, of his capacity for good, that he couldn't do anything but believe her. She somehow had seen past the walls he’d put up to the man he was below.

Sandor turned, so he could just gaze at her. She had such hidden depths, things he'd never think she was when he'd first seen her, showing up to help her Dad evaluate the team at their practices. Then he’d thought her nothing more than a pretty, spoiled woman that expected the world to do her bidding, because of her name and her wealth.

He couldn’t have been farther from the truth of who Sansa was if he’d tried. All his initial observations and opinions had been proved wrong, again and again.

She was a wonderful daughter, a rock for Catelyn. She’d been by her mom’s side through all her treatments, including when more than half the Stark family was away on games. The latest news was positive for cancer and Cat’s outcome. It had meant that the wedding plans were going ahead, with Cat playing a central role. Often Sandor came home and found Sansa, Wyn, Jeyne, Dacey, Cat and Mama B pouring over wedding ideas. Arya was quite often nowhere to be found, but she did promise she’d wear whatever Sansa chose.

There was a happiness to Catelyn now that she’d been given the good news as if she could fully embrace all these wonderful things that were happening with her family.

Sansa was an awesome sister, knowing just how to treat Robb, Arya, Bran and Rickon. Sandor saw how she was the glue that kept the Stark siblings together. Robb might be the oldest, but Sansa was the alpha of that little pack. She'd opened up their home, to Ric, who was thriving living on their property. Now Bran, the quiet one, was back, and Sansa was thrilled to have him here.

No matter what, her heart just always seemed to fucking expand to accept more people into it. Sandor knew that they both wanted a big family with lots of children, however, those kids came to be in their lives. Sansa would be the best role model for them and what family meant.

She was so smart and so driven that the last quarterly statement Sandor had seen from MiSa had made his eyes bug out. She'd brushed it off, but he knew she was a force in the beauty world. Dany had told Sandor on the quiet that Sansa had a huge following and that had she wanted, she could have single-handedly run the make-up world.

"But she is happiest here. With you, and her family, in the North."

Funnily enough, Sandor had believed Dany. Sansa had thrived since coming home, and he knew he was a part of that. His old insecurities seemed to fade by the day, as his confidence in Sansa and the life they were building together grew. It was impossible to miss how happy she was here, with him.

"Those are some deep thoughts, big guy," she said, reaching out to stroke him. He arched into her palm, loving how gentle she was with him. He'd had so little gentleness in his life, that he craved it.

"Yeah."

"Care to share?"

He gazed at her, not saying anything for a moment. “I’m glad you gave me a chance. Even though I was an ass.”

She grinned. “Me too.” He chuckled softly at her agreement. He had been a jerk. It was a defence mechanism, but still. Thank gods she hadn’t been scared off by him.

Sandor reached a big hand out to touch her.

“Are you nervous?” she asked. They both knew she was asking about becoming parents. It was a huge step in any couples’ life.

Sandor cocked his head, thinking about that. “I know that we are giving him a life he’d never have a chance at without us. I hope that certain aspects of who we are don’t harm him.”

She nodded thoughtfully, but Sandor could see his words had an impact. And not the one he was meaning. The little bird’s brilliant mind was racing.

“Do you think I should give up my social media stuff?”

And there it was. Sandor opened his arms and loved how she snuggled in close to him. She had a hand resting on his chest, playing with the hair there.

“Sansa don’t change a god damn thing. The agency knows who we are, and what we do. I know that you’re gonna go all mama wolf on Boone.”

“But maybe…” Sandor caught her lips in his.

“Stop. We are what we are.”

She gave a jerky nod and then out a sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. But I do promise I will protect him.”

Sandor knew it. Both of them would.

“I know baby. Fucking hells Sansa, you would tear anyone apart that harmed him.”

He saw how his words pleased her, and then her lush body was pressed against his, and all other thoughts fled but her.

They made love that morning, slowly, drawing out their pleasure, before they showered, dressed and had a quick breakfast. Sandor knew that Sansa’s entire family would be out in force this morning, to support Boone. He had his skates in the back of the SUV, along with his gloves and stick. There was a huge part of him that loved that Boone played hockey. It was the one thing that Sandor was really good at and hoped they could bond over it.

Sansa insisted they stop for donuts again and gave him a look when he grumbled about healthy eating.

“Sandor it’s their last game of the season.” It was such a mom thing to say, although he bit his tongue. Still, inside, Sandor was pleased. Sansa was the ultimate hockey mom, already.

By the time they pulled into the little community rink, there was the entire Stark-Marbrand group waiting for them. Sandor couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face. These people were just amazing, and their support never wavered. It was incredible.

There were slaps on the back and hugs, huge grins and excited cheers from Rickon.

Addam pulled Sandor in for a hug, and whispered, “I’m proud of you, son.”

Sandor couldn’t help but notice that both Addam and Ned had their skates, as well as Rickon, Gendry and Robb. It appeared that Boone’s hockey team was getting more than one Wolf player today. The kids and the parents would flip. The Wolves’ were celebrities up here.

They entered the rink together, as a group, as a family, and the first person Sandor spotted was Boone. He was waiting with Margret and Nancy, almost bouncing back and forth. When he saw Sandor, he took off running, and Sandor opened his arms and scooped him up.

"It's today, right?" he asked, suddenly nervous. "Cause we packed all my things."

Sandor glanced over to see one tiny suitcase and Boone's new hockey bag that held his equipment. That was the sum total of what this child had in this world. It made Sandor so angry, even though he knew that he and Sansa would give him everything he ever wanted – a home, love, two parents that were there for him and whatever he needed. But it hurt to know how much Boone had gone without.

"Yeah, buddy, it's today."

Boone’s eyes almost drilled into Sandor’s as he hung off his words. There was already so much trust there.

"After hockey?" There was no mistaking his eagerness. He wanted to come home with them. Whatever nervousness Sandor had felt, fled. Boone wanted them, as much as they wanted him.

"After hockey," Sandor confirmed. Boone nodded and then laid his head down on Sandor's chest, content just to be held.

"I'm glad," he said, his little body relaxed. Sandor held him tighter, vowing to never let anyone harm him again. This was his son; maybe not in name, yet, but in heart.

Sansa was there, rubbing his back, and Boone smiled at her. Sandor made the mistake of looking at his mother, Cat and Dacey, who were all wiping tears away. It was hard not to be emotional, watching a family find itself.

Sandor cleared his throat, knowing he'd make a fucking spectacle of himself if he didn't get things under control. Fast.

“I brought some people to help with the practice and game today,” he told Boone, distracting him. 

The boy turned his head and then his eyes widened as he realized that there were three other Wolves’ players standing there. He knew Rickon of course, from two weeks ago, but Robb and Gendry were brand new.

Boone scrambled down Robb, to slip his hand into Sandor’s, as they walked up to the men who would become his uncles.

“You’re Robb Stark!” Boone said, awe in his voice.

Robb chuckled and kneeled down. “I am. I’m Sansa’s brother. Along with Rickon. And our Dad, Ned is the Coach.”

Boone’s eyes widened. “Papa Ned is the coach? What is Papa Addam?”

Sandor saw the moment that Robb fully accepted Boone as one of their pack. His eyes softened and he reached out, and Boone’s hand slipped from Sandor’s to Robb’s.

“Papa Addam helps with scouting. Wanna meet Gendry? He’s Sandor’s partner on the blue line and can tell you lots of stories about him. He’s dating our sister, Arya. And then there is Bran. He’s our other brother.”

“Sansa has a big family.”

“Yeah, and now you do as well,” Robb said, winking at Boone.

Boone giggled and then walked with Robb to where Arya, Gendry, Ric, Dacey and Bran stood.

Ned, Cat, Addam and Brenda were all wiping at their eyes as they watched Robb speaking with Boone and meeting the rest of the Starks.

Sandor caught Dacey’s eye, the gentle swell of her stomach indicating her pregnant state and saw the love there. Content that Boone was going to be well-loved by their families, Sandor finally relaxed as Nancy and Margret looked on with happy faces.

Eventually, Boone came back to him and Sansa, eyeing up the boxes of donuts.

“More treats?” he cried happily. Sansa had a hand on his back.

“Yup. Should we go find your team and get you into your gear? The donuts are for after the game.”

He nodded eagerly, chatting away. Brenda grabbed his little suitcase and for a moment, Sandor saw the pain in her eyes, as if she recalled that Addam had brought him home with nothing more than the fresh bruises on his body and the clothes on his back.

“I’ll catch up with you,” he told Sansa and Boone. She glanced back and realizing what was happening, nodded.

When he was alone with his parents, the rest of the Starks having gone into the rink area, he let out a sigh.

“You think you’re over the pain, of how some people can be so cruel. But then, you see this, and you realize that there are some out there that are just unlucky,” Brenda said, shaking her head.

“Yeah, there are.” There was no use in denying it. Some kids just had a tough upbringing. There was no way around that.

Brenda gave a shake of her head. “Well, he’s here now. And I’m sure there is more we can do. Surely with this Sansan business, you two can have an impact.”

Sandor grinned at her, loving her so damn much. There would be no resting on his laurels. His mother would demand he did something with his success to ensure that others didn’t suffer as he had.

“Alright, slave driver. Go get your seats,” he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

To Addam, he winked. “Go get your skates on Papa.”

Addam's eyes were watery as well as he and Brenda walked away, hand in hand into the rink. It was good, having them all here. They would understand things that Boone might be going through and be a great resource for him and Sansa.

Sandor hurried to find the change room where Boone’s team was getting ready for their time on the ice. He found Sansa kneeling before him, as Boone chirped away, a huge smile on his face. His equipment looked good, although Sandor already knew he’d be buying him better stuff next year.

The coach spotted him right away and hurried over.

“It is true? Are there more Wolves’ players out there?” Sandor laughed and patted the guy on the back.

“Yup. Bunch of us. Do you mind?”

The guy shook his head.

“God no. This is awesome.”

Sandor could see how star struck the man was and knew today was going to be a good day. There were other parents that asked for his autograph as he walked through the change room. He saw Boone watching him, grinning, so he threw him a wink. By the time he got to Sansa and Boone, she had his skates tied and his helmet on.

“They like you!” Boone said happily as Sandor took a seat down next to him. It was clear that Boone thought it was great that all his little teammates were staring at Sandor in awe. Boone knew that Sandor was his, and probably for the first time in his life, he was the object of envy, not derision by the other kids.

“Yeah, buddy, they do. That’s cause I’m the Hound,” Sandor playfully growled into Boone’s ear as he laughed. The giggle just did something to Sandor, before the coach called them all to gather around.

“Wait!” Sansa said, holding up her phone. “I need a picture.”

Sandor leaned over to wrap a big arm around Boone, as he snuggled in. It was impossible not to think of Boone as their son, and already in his mind, Sandor had almost slipped up and called him that. He knew it would happen when the timing was right, but he didn’t want to put any pressure on Boone.

When Sansa had her photos, she kissed Sandor and hugged Boone.

“Skate hard,” she told him, giving him a little fist bump on his hockey glove.

He grinned. “Are the Nanas and aunties watching?”

“You bet!” she told him. “Keep Sandor in line,” she told him before finally leaving Sandor with Boone.

They stood at the back and listened to the coach explain that they had some special visitors from the Wolves’ helping the two teams out. The kids were excited when they realized that some of their idols were here, and as they shuffled onto the ice, Sandor couldn’t help but think of what a great family he was marrying into.

Ric, Robb, Gendry, Addam and Ned were already there. They had the pucks out and were doing some warm-up drills and the kids just looked at them in awe, before Ned blew his whistle and skated over.

“Hello there. Does anyone know who I am?” His face was warm and open. He was good at the shit, Sandor thought. When Ned was eventually done coaching the Wolves’, Sandor knew he’d most likely start coaching minor hockey, as his way of giving back.

“You’re Coach Stark,” one kid yelled.

Ned chuckled. “I am. And I have some very special players here, to help today. We’re going to mix the two teams up and have some fun today!”

A huge cheer went up, as both the coaches looked on in awe. Sandor stopped by them, watching as the Starks, along with Gendry and Addam had the kids going.

“Hope we didn’t take over,” Sandor said, a bit gruffly.

The two men looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

“You’re the fucking Hound, man. You can run every practice,” the one guy said. Then he swallowed. “Hey, can I get your autograph?”

Sandor laughed and told him sure. “We ahhhh… well, we put aside some tickets for the kids and their families. A whole section of the rink. Not the best seats, upper level and I know it’s short notice. But if you guys want them, I’ll get Sansa to hand them out after the game.”

The two men looked stunned before huge smiles broke out on their faces. 

“Awesome man,” they just said.

The coach from the other team glanced into the stands, where all the wives and mothers were. “My wife loves Sansa,” he told Sandor.

Sandor couldn’t help but chuckle. Yeah, he might be the Hound, but Sansa was the star.

Sandor nodded then pushed off, eager to join Boone. Right now, his foster son was chasing Gendry down the ice. Gendry was skating backwards, as three of the kids were laughing trying to keep up with him.

By the time the first hour was up, the kids were eager to play a game. They ‘choose’ players from the Wolves’ team to play on each team.

Sandor, Ric and Ned ended up together, while Robb, Gendry and Addam were on the other team.

Rickon was pumped. He let out a little whoop of glee.

“They’re six,” Sandor told the rookie. “This is gonna be honeypot hockey.” The kids would be like little bees, buzzing around the puck, no one playing their position.

Rickon grinned. “Yah, but you’re my bro. My bro-mate! We’re bro-tastic! We’re bro-aweome.”

Shaking his head at Ric, Sandor muttered about rookies and puppies and way too much energy.

It was fun, watching the kids scramble after the puck. None of them were really that good yet, and hardly any of them played their position, but in the end, there were grins and cheers all around.

The parents on both teams swarmed the Wolves’ players, and there were autographs and photos, as tickets were handed out for the game tonight. Sandor knew they had done something truly special today, and the best part was that Boone was now comfortable with Robb and Gendry, as well as Ned and Addam.

As they made their way to the dressing room, Boone glanced up to see Cat and Brenda sitting there. He gave them an enthusiastic wave and cried, “Look Nanas! I’m skating!”

They beamed at him.

Once they had his equipment off, Sandor packed it all up in the hockey bag, and then the donuts were passed out.

“It’s special how I’ve had a treat two weekends in a row,” he said to Sandor, white icing on his lips. Sandor had to swallow hard over the lump in his throat. Gods, he knew what that felt like. To think that a single donut was a ‘treat.’

Boone slipped his hand into Sandor’s and they went out of the change room, to find the family waiting for them. Boone ran to Sansa, who snuggled him close.

“Did you see me?” he asked.

“Yeah baby, I did. I got some video and some pictures as well.”

Boone noticed that Margret and Nancy were also there, and he gave a frown. “Why are they here?”

“To say goodbye. We’ll still see Nancy, but now it’s time to come home with us,” Sansa explained gently.

Boone gave a nod and then hugged Margret and Nancy, before running back to Sandor.

“Ready?” Sandor asked both Sansa and Boone. Their family was standing behind them, always ready to be there to support them. But this was a moment for just them.

“Yes,” Boone whispered.

“Alright, little bird and littler bird, let’s go home.”

Boone laughed. “Sandor I’m not a bird.”

“You squeak like one,” Sandor said, throwing the kid a wink. Boone’s peels of happy laughter followed them out of the rink and Sandor knew his entire world was fucking perfect at that moment.

He has Sansa.

He had Boone.

He had his family.

And now, they were going home. 

* * *

_ Boone comes home – Sandor _

Boone grew quieter as they reached the top of the mountain where their house was perched. Behind Sandor was Rickon in his Jeep. Somehow Sansa had known that Boone's little wolf stuffie, Hounddog, would be needed, and Sandor saw him clutch at it as his eyes took everything in.

Whatever neglect Boone might have suffered, Sandor knew there was a smart kid.

"Hey buddy, almost home," Sandor said, trying to lose some of the gruffness in his voice.

"My forever home?" he asked quietly.

Sansa turned so he could see her face and nodded.

"Yup. And guess what? Uncle Ric and Uncle Bran live in the house right across from ours."

"Really?" he said.

Rickon had been his hyper funny self, making Boone laugh again and again at the hockey game.

"Yup. Although they have to ask before they come to our house and if you ever want to visit them, you have to ask for permission."

He said he would as Sandor parked the SUV in the garage.

Not wanting to make a big deal out of it, Sandor opened his door and got Boone out of his booster seat. Then he reached in the back and grabbed the hockey gear. Boone followed Sansa, as she showed him the peg where he could hang his coat and the little boot rack for his shoes.

Then, glued to Sansa, Boone followed her into the central part of the house.

She spoke slowly as she showed him the kitchen, the living room and then the room where dogs stayed when they were away. Half an hour later, the dogs and the boy were thoroughly reacquainted, and Sansa called out to Boone.

"Boone, time for lunch."

Margret had reported that Boone's diet had been severely restricted when he'd been at his foster parents' house, so there were many foods he was unsure about.

"I started adding one new food each meal, along with something he was familiar with. I'm sorry to say, but his diet mostly seemed to consist of pasta, rice, plain bread, and soup. Very rarely was there fresh fruit, meat or vegetables."

Today they had a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup, some goldfish crackers and a half an apple, and a little cup of peanut butter to dip his apples in. The kid needed to gain weight.

Perhaps because Boone somehow understood how hard they were trying, and he tasted everything. He liked the apples and peanut butter, and somehow ate two more halves of an apple, along with most of his soup and part of his sandwich. Three glasses of milk later, he said he was full.

"How about we go and look at your room?" Sansa said after they had cleaned up.

Nodding shyly, he looked to Sandor, who had made lunch. Neither he nor Sansa quite trusted her cooking, yet. She was making strides, but she was no Iron Chef. For now, it would be Sandor or Mama B that would do the majority of the cooking.

This time, the door to his room was open, and Boone immediately noticed the two dog beds that were there.

"We thought it might make you feel better to have the dogs sleep in here tonight," Sansa said as Sweetie curled up on her bed, Harley by her side.

"Oh, I'd like that," Boone agreed. The dogs put him at ease and Sandor knew they were already fast friends.

It took time to show him all the things that were now his. Clothing, books, toys, crayons – Sandor knew that Boone had never had so many things. And this was with Sandor reigning Sansa in.

Sensing it was a lot, Sansa suggested they choose a few books to read on the couch out front. They made a small pile and then snuggled on the couch. Sandor leaned against the island; his eyes glued to them, watching them.

Boone was almost on Sansa's lap, and every so often, she'd pause and run a hand through his hair, musing it. She looked fucking perfect, right there, with Boone by her side. Sandor knew that whatever she was, however successful she became, at her heart, this was the true Sansa. The woman loved with her entire heart and she seemed to have a soft spot for broken, damaged things.

Eventually, Boone grew tired, and Sandor carried him to his bed for a nap. Tucking him in, he pouted a bit.

"I'm not a baby."

Sandor rumbled out a laugh. "No, you're not. But I'll tell you a secret. I'm going for my pre-game nap as well."

"You are?" He looked amazed at this fact.

Sandor nodded. "And you don't want to be tired for the game tonight, do you?"

Boone shook his head. "Nope." Then his eyes were closed as he snuggled into his bed.

"It's so soft," he said sleepily as Sansa dropped a kiss onto his forehead.

Sandor almost had to drag Sansa out into the hall, getting her there just in time for the tears to come. It was only early afternoon, and already it had been a roller coaster of emotions.

He held her as she shook. There were just times when Boone said things, so casually, as if he had no understanding of how awful his life was. Sandor knew that Sansa had a soft heart and that it hurt her when she learned more of what he had endured.

"Shhhh, little bird. He's home now," he said, hoping he was soothing. It took a few minutes, but he felt her wipe her eyes. When they met his, he could see she was still a bit sad, but trying to rally.

"Sansa, listen to me. Boone's life is going to be amazing. We'll give him what he needs – a family, love, support. We’re giving him a home. Yeah, he's going to have some shit to work through, but I promise you, this is the best thing that's happened to him."

"I know," she said quietly. "It's just I think of him as mine. And that someone hurt him," she said, shaking her head.

Sandor got it. He did. But he also knew what it was like to be that kid that won the lottery with parents like them and Addam and Brenda.

"Come on, LB, tuck me," Sandor said, giving her a wink.

She rolled her eyes at him, but he could see he distracted her enough to have her focused on him. He set his alarm for a few hours and then tugged Sansa down to him, loving it as his big frame covered hers, keeping her close.

"Rest, little spoon," he rumbled into her ear as he nuzzled at her.

"Love you big spoon," she responded, then thankfully closed her eyes.

Sandor sucked in a breath, peace consuming him.

He had his family, safe, whole, in their home.

With one last kiss on Sansa's cheek, he followed them both over to dreamland, knowing that everything had worked out just as it was meant to be.

* * *

_ Game night – Sandor _

Sandor's pre-game dinner had at 4 pm consisted of chicken, rice and steamed vegetable. Boone took one look at the food and wrinkled his nose.

He knew that Nancy and Margret had cautioned against introducing too much new stuff all at once, but Sandor figured there was no way he would let Boone get away with being a picky eater, not after the kid had never really had enough to eat or ate properly.

Way Sandor figured it, he was making one meal, and he wanted Boone to at least try it. They could always boil up some pasta later.

"That doesn't look very good," Boone complained, shrinking back from his plate.

Sansa went to open her mouth, but Sandor shot her a look that said, _I've got this_.

Instead, she thanked Sandor for dinner and then started to bring the plates to the table, saying nothing to Boone’s comment about dinner not looking good. 

Boone followed her, clearly thinking he had thwarted Sandor.

There was a knock at the door before Rickon appeared.

Boone almost bounced on his feet, seeing his second favourite Wolves' player in his new home.

"Hey Boone, San, Sandor. Dinner ready?"

"Yup," Sandor said, bringing the drinks over, as well as Boone’s dinner.

On Boone's plate was a small helping of rice, a few bites of steak, and a carrot, pepper and a piece of broccoli. Sandor set some milk down in front of him then ruffled his hair.

“This is what Wolves’ eat."

Boone looked between Sandro and his plate as the three adults tucked into their meal. No one made a big deal about Boone not eating, carrying on the conversation without him, until he finally took a few tentative bites.

Within seconds, his eyes widened, and he began shovelling the food in.

Sandor had added a little butter and some flavour to the veggies and rice, and Boone scarfed down the steak. When he was done, he looked down at his plate, forlornly, before he schooled his features as if he shouldn’t let them know that he was still hungry.

"Hey buddy, come here," Sandor said, holding out his big hand. He took Boone back to the kitchen, where he lifted him up in his arms and showed him all the food left.

"We always make enough for seconds and thirds," Sandor told him.

Boone's eyes widened. "Even for me?"

Sandor gave a gentle pat on his belly. "Especially for you."

Boone nodded.

"Hungry for some more?" Sandor asked.

"Yeah," Boone said. He asked for all three things, and Sandor willingly indulged, grabbing another glass of milk along the way and then joining Ric and Sansa.

Sandor and Ric talked about the game, and the upcoming playoffs, while Sansa asked Boone questions about hockey, as Boone ate a second and bigger plate of food.

Soon enough, they were dressed and ready to go to the game, Boone's new jersey reading #8 Clegane on the back, just like Sansa's. There was no Instagram picture tonight, but one for just them. Sandor knew that he and Sansa would cherish it forever.

It was an incredible feeling to roll up to their home rink, Sansa, by his side and his son in the back.

"It's so big," Boone said in wonder at Wintertown's arena. Once again, he slipped his hand into Sandor's, while Sansa walked along the other side.

When they walked up to the player's entrance, the guard there, Fred, warmly welcomed them before kneeling down to go eye level with Boone. Fred had three grandchildren and was excellent with kids.

"Well now, who are you, trying to sneak into my arena?" Fred asked, winking at Boone, so the boy knew he was joking.

"I with my family," he whispered to Fred, who grinned and slapped his knee.

"Silly me! I forgot that Sandor told me that. He said he had someone special joining him tonight.”

Boone giggled and high fived Fred before the door opened, and they walked inside. Sandor shook Fred's hand, moved by what the long-time guard had done.

“You’ve done right by that boy,” Fred said, a knowing look in his eye. It was pride, Sandor realized. More than just being the Hound, Fred was proud of him as a man.

It was more of the same, as everywhere they went, everyone treated Boone as if they knew he was Sandor's. Sansa later told him that Wyn had circulated a memo to all the staff, players and coaching staff, letting them know who Boone was and how important it was that he was accepted into the Wolves' family, but that a ‘big’ deal wasn’t made about it.

Thank god for Wyn. That woman was incredible. All their friends were.

As they approached the players' dressing room, Sansa pointed out some trophies and pictures to Boone, including one of Papa Ned.

"He played hockey as well?"

"He did, baby."

Sandor heard the voices inside and looked down at Boone, grinning.

This was a moment that almost every hockey player dreamed of – showing his son his teammates and locker room. So few people ever had a chance to see this, experience it.

Opening the door, Sandor heard a huge, "HOUND!" and then mad barking as his teammates all erupted.

He stood, gazing at them for a moment, taking it in, what the guys in this room had accomplished.

First place overall.

Most points EVER for the Wolves' team in the regular season.

Rickon up for Rookie of the Year.

Sandor up for Best defenceman and league MVP.

Robb was in the race for the leading scorer.

And Tormund for best save percentage and best goalie.

It was fucking magic, and he shook his head, knowing that this was a season for the record books.

Boone was pressed against Sansa, taking it all in, as Ned finally got the guys calmed down.

"All right, you knuckleheads, we've got a special visitor tonight. Sandor and Sansa have welcomed Boone into their home, which means he's now officially part of the Wolf Pack!"

Fresh howling broke out, but now, Robb, Rickon and Gendry had stepped forward, and Boone clung to them, quickly losing his inhibitions and soon talking up a storm as he met the whole team.

Sansa hovered slightly, like a mother would, while Sandor was clapped on the back by Bronn.

"Who the fuck knew that when that old arsehole wouldn't pay top dollar, this would be our fucking life?" Both men, pissed at Tywin ten months ago, now would have thanked the Old Lion had he been here.

Sandor smirked, shaking his head.

Sansa glanced back and caught his eye. Sandor winked at her.

Fuck to think about how it was right here when he first saw her, and he never thought a dog like him would have a chance with her.

Now fucking look at them. Look at what they’d built, together.

Eventually, Boone ran back to him, asking to see where he got dressed. Tormund, who was shockingly good with children and didn't swear once, showed Boone all his goalie equipment. Ned came over and took him to where the coaches reviewed the video and looked at plays.

With Boone occupied, Sandor took in his teammates. They were focused on the game tonight.

What Sandor liked best was that they were as hungry as he was for the cup. Yeah, what they'd done in the regular season was incredible; but it was the playoffs when it all was on the line. Having Sansa and Boone just made Sandor that much hungrier for the win, for the championship. He wanted that moment at the end of sixteen hard-fought wins, when he hoisted the cup and found the woman he loved and the son he now had, waiting for him, proud of what he'd done. This victory, should they accomplish it, wouldn’t feel hollow.

Soon enough, Sansa was there, telling Boone they had to let the guys get ready. He reached up to hug Sandor, and not giving a single fuck what his teammates might think, Sandor, pulled Boone into his arms.

Boone whispered in his ear, the one that was all fucked up, but didn't seem to matter to him. Funny, none of Sandor’s scars seemed to bother Boone.

"Play hard, Sandor."

Too choked up, Sandor could only nod. Then he set Boone down, kissed Sansa hard and took a deep breath.

"You got this Hound," she said, cupping his cheek before she and Boone turned to go.

He gave himself a few moments to just watch them go before he shook his head and focused on the task again.

Win tonight.

Celebrate.

Then refocus for the playoffs.

Soon enough, their wedding would be here, and Sansa would be his wife.

His life was pretty damn close to perfect.

And he owed it all to coming North.

* * *

_ Game Night – Sansa _

Boone was chatty as they made their way up to the main concourse. His hand was in hers, and Sansa couldn't help but the huge grin that was on her face as she listened to him talk away.

She was proud of what she'd build, proud of the hard work she'd put into her brand, her make-up, her videos. She knew she was a force in the beauty industry, and that drive was still there to be the absolute best.

But this?

This was the icing on the best cake she'd ever eaten.

This was what her life was supposed to be.

This was her dream, in living technicolour.

A man that was so incredible, that loved her with a depth she hadn't known possible, who saw her for the woman she was and loved every part of her.

A little boy that had been tailor-made for them, welcomed into their home, completing a circle no one had even realized was incomplete.

And the chance to be a mother.

Her life was amazing, and Sansa couldn’t help the sense of rightness that settled over her.

"Where are we going?" Boone asked suddenly as she directed them to the private elevators that went to the luxury suites.

"These are special seats," she told him.

Boone loved the elevator and made friends with everyone they passed. Sansa was so proud of him. By the time she opened the door to their suite, he was pretending he was tired.

“That’s a lot of people that now know me, Sansa,” he told her as she laughed at him. He had a huge personality, and she couldn’t wait for him to feel safe enough to bring it out even more. She had a feeling that when Boone truly found his place, he was going to be a supernova.

"Nanas!" he cried, rushing forward to where Cat and Brenda sat. They opened their arms and he was deep in conversation with them, regaling them with tales of everything he’d seen and done.

Sansa sat her purse down and hugged Addam, Bran and Dacey. The morning sickness was still fierce with her sister-in-law. The doctor (and Robb) had threatened bed rest if she didn't start taking some time off from the bar. So here she was, settled into the suite, to watch Robb play hockey tonight.

Sansa was glad to see her here, along with her friend Jeyne and Brienne. Wyn was working, having somehow also finagled Podrick to do some work for her and the Wolves’ team. She'd most likely pop into the suite at some point, but she was always busiest on game night.

All four women, now terrific friends, settled in to catch up and watch Boone talk of meeting the Wolves', his dogs and his big room at their house.

"And Sandor said I could eat as much dinner as I wanted," he was telling Addam, now sitting on his Papa's knee.

Sansa didn't miss the looks her friends shared.

"Oh god, that just hurts my heart," Dacey whispered. The pregnant hormones had Dacey wiping away tears again. “I’m so glad you guys got him out of that horrible home where he was living.”

Since Sansa agreed, she just nodded.

Suddenly, there was movement on the ice, and the Wolves' players came out onto the ice for warmup. Boone leaned forward; eyes glued on Sandor.

Sansa saw when her guy spotted them. He gave a little way, and Boone waved back, almost bouncing.

“That’s Sandor!”

The rest of the warmup was filled with excited little boy chatter. Addam and Cat pointed out the other players, and all the guys, including Robb and Rickon sent Boone a wave. He was over the moon excited.

Sansa ordered him some food, knowing he would most likely crash unless he ate again.

As the Zamboni cleaned the ice, he ate some spaghetti, delighted that Sansa ordered it right to their suite. Knowing the game was about to start, Sansa gathered Boone and took him to the front of the booth. They were just above the bottom ring of seats, so they had a great view of the ice and could see everything.

All of a sudden, the rink went dark, and Boone crawled onto her lap. Sansa wrapped her arms around him.

The howling began, filling the rink, and he pressed closer, and she whispered in his ear.

"It's ok, baby, you're a wolf now. That's when the pack howls," she told him.

The lights were next until the PA called the Wolves' onto the ice. Sandor was first, huge as always, and Sansa could see that he was happy even from where she sat.

Boone's eyes were glued to ice as he watched the starting line-up skate to the blue line. They removed their helmets, and then there were a bunch of presentations for trophies the team had already won, before a ceremonial puck drop. Then the anthems and before long the music started, and the game was only moments from starting.

“I like this, Sansa,” Boone said, still cuddled on her lap. They spent the first period like that, watching the Wolves’ dominate. Sandor found a different level it seemed like, and he was everywhere on the ice. At the end of the first, they were up by 2 goals.

For the second period, Sansa took Boone down to ice level, where she had some seats reserved just behind the bench. They were close to the tunnel where the Wolves’ players came out, so when the second period started and the guys filed out, they all could lean over and fist bump Boone.

He was almost bouncing in his seat when he saw Sandor. Down here, at ice level, her guy looked even bigger, but that didn’t seem to worry Boone. In fact, he leaned into Sansa and said, “No one will hurt me now that I live with Sandor.”

Aching for him, Sansa hugged him close. “No baby, they won’t.”

Boone didn’t quite realize yet that no one would ever hurt him because of all of those that loved him – but Sandor was a good place to start with feeling safe.

In the end, the Wolves’ won easily, and Sansa and Boone made their way down the tunnel to the dressing room again to meet up with Sandor.

There would be enough of the team that was going out to celebrate, but Sansa knew that they would be heading home. She was carrying Boone, his weight welcome but heavy as he was exhausted.

Sandor must have showered and changed quickly, because he was the first one out. He looked pleased with the win, but the love that filled his eyes when he spotted them was worth more than any hockey success.

“Let me take him,” Sandor said, and Sansa willingly transferred a sleepy Boone to Sandor’s arms. His other hand reached out for Sansa’s hand.

“Good game, big guy.”

He flashed her a grin. “Yeah? Did Boone like it?”

Sansa grinned. “Yup.”

They got to the SUV and put Boone inside. He woke long enough to tell Sandor that he was ‘awesome’ then promptly fell back asleep. When they were in the front, they saw Ric, Robb, Tormund, Jon, Gendry and Bronn spill out from the players entrance, their wives or girlfriends with them.

“Wish you were with them?” Sansa asked Sandor, even though she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

Sandor shook his head. “Fuck no. I’m right where I want to be.”

Grinning, she leaned over and kissed him. “Me too. Now, take us home, Sandor.”

He winked at her and started the vehicle.

Us.

Home.

Family.

It was everything that Sansa had ever wanted. And she couldn’t wait for things to get even better. The Wolves were in the playoffs, they had Boone, their wedding was coming up, and her company was thriving. Happiness and contentment roared through Sansa, making her feel all warm and gooey inside. She loved her life, loved her Hound and loved her new son. And the best part was, this wonderful life was only just beginning for #Sansan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was sweet and lovely and I'm so happy Boone is back.
> 
> As many have guessed, this story is winding down. At most, I think we have perhaps five chapters to go. 
> 
> I've loved this world and everyone who has stuck by me. 
> 
> Up Next:
> 
> Playoffs and a wedding. THE wedding. The event of the season lol


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boone adjusts to being home

* * *

_ Springtime – Sansa  _

Life with Boone was at turns fascinating, rewarding, frustrating and incredible.

Sansa had always wanted to be a mother. She had dreamed about it her entire life. And it didn't matter to her that Boone wasn't hers biologically. He was always meant to be theirs.

The first night, the combination of the busy day, the hockey game and the sheer excitement meant Boone slept through the night. Both dogs had padded into his room and taken up their spots as his guardians, and Sansa had left a soft nightlight on.

"What's that?"

"It's a light, in case you need to come and get us in the night."

He was snuggled deep into his bed, his new Wolves' jammies on and hugging Hounddog.

"I can leave?"

Sansa had to bite back the horror of what it must be like to be locked in a room.

Instead, she ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, baby. If you need us, you can come to find us. Or you can all out."

He nodded slowly as he thought about that. "Alright."

"Can I hug you, goodnight?" Sansa asked. Sandor was standing over beside the bed, and she desperately wanted to give Boone some love.

"Yes, please," Boone said. Both Sansa and Sandor hugged him and then left the room. They stood outside his door and listened to him say good night to the dogs before he was quiet.

They didn't hear a peep from him until the next morning when Sansa opened his door and saw him fast asleep. Sweetie had somehow made her way onto his bed, and her tail thumped when she spotted Sansa.

Harley was wiggly when he saw Sansa, and knowing that Boone had a late night, Sansa had left his door slightly open as the dogs followed her out to find their breakfast.

Boone wandered out, in his jammies and carrying Hounddog, rubbing his eyes around 8 am. He sleepily wandered up to Sansa, who was sitting at the kitchen table. She opened her arms as he crawled onto her lap. She felt her heart constrict as she inhaled the smell of his kid shampoo.

"Morning buddy," Sandor said. He was leaning against the island, sipping coffee and gazing at the two of them as if they were his entire world.

Since it was Sunday, neither Sandor nor Sansa had anything to do except be with Boone and go to Winterfell for dinner that night.

"How did you sleep?" Sansa asked him.

"Good," he said shyly. "The dogs stayed," he added.

Sandor rumbled out a laugh. "Yeah, lucky dogs." Sandor threw Boone a wink and then clapped his hands. "So, what do you want for breakfast?"

Boone's eyes went wide, and he glanced up at Sansa.

"I like cereal."

"Hmmm, cereal is good," Sansa said. "But Sunday's are special. Have you ever had waffles?" she asked him. His eyes went wide, and he shook his head.

Sansa smiled and ruffled his hair. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Boone nodded and lit up as if it had never occurred to him that adults might have secrets as well.

She leaned down to whisper into his ear. "I'm just learning to cook, and the first thing that I learned to make was waffles. Want to be my helper?"

He almost leapt off her lap and ran to the kitchen. Sansa followed, her heart full as she heard Sandor help Boone find the ingredients and get him more comfortable with the kitchen.

The playoffs didn't start for a week, so other than Sandor's practices, the three of them had plenty of time to bond. Wolves' had home-ice advantage, which meant the first two games of the series would be played in Wintertown, so there was no travel just yet. And it meant that Sandor had time to be there for breakfast each day this week.

Sansa was mostly working from home, with Boone now here, to ease the transition. These routines would be so crucial for him, and on Monday, they were set to go to the new school they had enrolled Boone in. Both Sansa and Sandor felt it necessary to show Boone how important it was that he was now theirs, despite their busy careers.

They laughed as Boone got his first lesson in cooking, eagerly helping Sansa and Sandor make the waffles. Afterwards, they took the dogs for a walk, both Rickon and Bran joining them. When they got home, Sandor and Boone spent some time building a Lego that Sansa had chosen for Boone. She sipped coffee as she watched the huge man sprawled out on their living room rug, with an eager little boy glued to his every word, as they dumped the Lego bricks out onto the carpet and looked at the instructions.

"This is so cool," Boone kept saying. It was a little garage set with a few vehicles, including a tow truck, a mechanic's shop and some people. Boone was glued to Sandor's side as they spent a solid hour just building.

Boone played with it when the toy was done until it was time to go to her parent's house.

"I've never had my own toy," he told them, putting the set gently on his desk. Sansa had to bite back the tears.

His eyes slid to the other unopened boxes, and he looked a bit longingly at them. She was pleased with how well this had gone and how much Boone seemed to like Lego.

"They aren't going anywhere," Sandor told him. "And why don't you pick something to bring to Nana and Papa's house?"

Boone liked that idea, and grabbed the tow truck, his favourite piece from the set, and prepared to carry it carefully to Sandor's big SUV. He was a bit apprehensive about eating at a different house, and Sansa had fretted that they were pushing him too fast.

"It's family, LB. And if he's having a hard time, we can come home," Sandor told her quietly as they watched him put on his new boots.

Of course, Sweetie was there, licking him and making sure he was giggling, so he'd momentarily forgotten his unease of going to Nana and Papa's house.

The dogs were literal godsends, and Sansa swore that Sweetie thought that they had gotten Boone just for her.

Before they left, Bran and Ric hopped in with them, and Bran, for once, had a massive grin on his face.

"I can't wait for Mordane's cooking. She promised meatballs and spaghetti," Bran said. Being away at university, Sansa knew he'd missed family dinner. Sansa was thankful that dinner was something basic for Boone and knew her mother likely had a hand in that.

"Uncle Bran, Uncle Ric, look what I made," Boone said. Sansa adored how comfortable he was with them.

Both Bran and Ric made appropriate sounds of delight when Boone showed them his new Lego.

"You should get Bran to show you his Lego room," Rickon said, and Boone's eyes lit.

"Would you?" Boone asked Bran.

Bran, always the quiet one, smiled at Boone. "Of course. We can go look when we get there."

That seemed to settle Boone a bit, but he was quiet as they drove, asking few questions. When they pulled into the huge driveway for Winterfell, Sansa turned to see the awe on his face. Winterfell was a lot for anyone to take in. Sansa knew that.

"This is Winterfell," she told her foster son. "This is where Nana and Papa live."

"Wow," Boone whispered. "It's like a castle."

"Fricking right it is," Sandor muttered as Sansa gave him a look, before looking at Boone again.

"Boone, hunny, you just tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable, alright?" Sansa said. He nodded and slipped his hand into hers. She glanced at Sandor, wonder filling her. It was incredible to think that she now had a family!

Ned and Cat were waiting at the door, and as he had since the beginning, Boone relaxed with Cat. There was something about her mother that just put people at ease, and it was clear to everyone that Boone loved his Nana.

"Nana, look! I made a Lego with Sandor today," he cried happily, racing forward to show her.

"Oh, Boone, that's wonderful! Come and show me," she said. He had dropped Sansa's hand and raced over to Catelyn so quickly that Sansa shook her head at him. Still, it was something to see her mother sit with him on the couch, as Boone showed her everything he loved about his new toy. Of course, Cat, having raised three boys herself, made all the appropriate noises of how wonderful it was, while Boone beamed at her.

For the Stark kids, watching their mother get to do this when things had been so uncertain a few months ago, was enough to make them all sentimental.

"Fuck, she's so awesome," Dacey said, resting a hand on her growing bump. Sansa gave it a rub, loving it, and nodded.

"She is."

Dinner was spaghetti and meatballs, and Boone claimed it was the best he'd ever tasted. He wasn't too sure about the salad, but a look from Sandor and he tried a few bites, and then went and picked out the bacon.

"I like the bacon parts," he said, making Rickon laugh.

"Me too. One day we should have a bacon eating contest," Ric said.

"What's that?"

Everyone groaned as Rickon explained they'd cook bacon and eat as much of it as possible until they were too stuffed to eat anymore or felt sick. Boone was giggling at Ric's suggestion, but since he was shovelling food into his mouth as Ric made up more ridiculous contests, no one said much as Ric suggested a pancake eating contest and the ultimate contest - a pie eating one.

Except for Ned, who gave Ric a look. "Not until after playoffs, Rookie."

Ric shot him a cocky grin. "Yeah, we gotta win the cup."

Even with the excitement of Boone, the playoffs were a big deal. The Wolves had never looked better, and everyone knew they were the favourites going into the postseason.

After dinner, but before dessert, the guys gathered to talk hockey, while Sansa, Cat and Dacey went into the living room to sip tea and discuss her wedding. Sansa heard enough hockey talk in her own home, and while she loved it, she also had a million things to get done before the wedding and Dacey, her Mom and Mama B were her sounding boards.

Boone and Bran had disappeared upstairs, where Cat assured Bran his precious Lego collection was still there.

"When do you meet with Val?" Dacey asked, groaning as sunk into the couch. Nausea hadn't eased for her, and she wasn't feeling the best.

"This week, thank god. There is so much going on, with Boone and his new school tomorrow, and then the first playoff game this weekend," Sansa said, sipping her tea.

She might have preferred a glass of wine, but since neither Dace nor her Mom could partake, tea it was.

"And how is the move for MiSa coming along?" Cat asked her skin a healthy glow and eyes bright.

It was shocking how much more energy and life her mother had now that her cancer was officially moving into remission.

Sansa nodded.

"Good. Gilly and Royce have been godsends. I just don't know what I would have done without them. Melisandre is a true professional and almost scary in her organizational skills and vision for the company."

Sansa chatted about the rest of the staff she'd hired to fill out her team over the past few months.

"And Pod? How has the move North been for him?"

"Good. Really good. He loves it up here. He's really close with Bran and Sam, which is great."

Sansa frowned and thought of her promise to Shireen Baratheon all those months ago about a possible internship. This summer was not the time for Sansa to be taking someone on; she simply couldn't devote enough time and energy that a young, bright professional would deserve. But perhaps next year, when things were more settled.

"Pod hired a guy named Jojen to help with some of the video editing stuff, and his sister, Meera, is a whiz when it comes to websites and social media. Which is hilarious, since she's the quietest person you've ever met. But now he has help, so that has made me feel less like a jerk for the crazy amount of traffic those sites generate." Jojen was twenty-two and Meera was twenty-one and they were an awesome addition to her team.

"SANSA! You have to see this!" Came Boone's loud demanding voice from somewhere deep in Winterfell.

The three women shared a look that seemed ingrained in all mothers before Sansa set down her teacup and began to walk towards the stairs. Bran had always preferred his room remain upstairs, in the wing of Winterfell where the Stark kids had all started, never leaving it until he went away to university.

Ric, conversely, had moved into the basement the first chance he got.

As Sansa reached the bottom of the stairs, Sandor suddenly appeared, and the look on his face was part worry, part intrigue and part exasperation.

"Need to talk to the littlest bird about his manners," Sandor grumbled as they linked hands and climbed the stairs. Sansa held back the giggle that her dirty, foul-mouthed lover cared so much about manners. But he did, and it was just one more thing that Sansa adored about Sandor.

Boone was waiting at the top of Winterfell's impressive staircase, almost bouncing in glee. He looked a little crazed, and Sansa knew that he'd found the motherload of all Lego collections.

She bit the inside of her lip, while Sandor gave Boone a look. Lecture time. Any worries Sandor had that he wasn't cut out to be a father had been obliterated in the first forty-eight hours. Her guy was a natural when it came to parenting, and Sansa knew she wanted a big family; however, that might come about with this man.

"Buddy, did your legs break?"

Boone looked puzzled, then glanced down at his legs and laughed, shaking his head.

"No, Sandor, they didn't."

"Then why were you standing up here yellin' like a monkey when you could have come and found Sansa or me?"

Boone looked puzzled and then grinned and reached for Sandor's hand.

"Cause I'm excited. I have to show you this."

Sandor just gaped at the boy, who didn't seem to get what Sandor was saying.

Sansa patted Sandor's back, snorting a bit at how that lesson had sailed right over Boone's head.

"Next time, big guy."

"What the fuck is going on?" Sandor whispered in her ear.

"Boone found his kindred Lego spirit," she told her soon to be husband.

"Come on!" Boone insisted, almost sprinting down the hallway.

They went into Bran's room, which he'd turned into a Lego shrine. Every single set he'd ever had in his entire life was built and proudly displayed.

Sandor's mouth dropped open, as Bran and Boone had their heads together around a building table.

There was a section on City, Star Wars, Avengers, Harry Potter and DC comics. He had an entire wall that just contained Lego bricks of every shape, size and colour, and another display case for all his figurines. There were mechanical robot Legos and even the huge Death Star that had taken Bran a solid month to build when he was fourteen. In short, it was the stuff of Lego dreams.

"Holy shit," Sandor whispered, turning to look at Sansa.

She shrugged. "Bran wasn't huge into hockey. He loved to build and take things apart and figure out how everything worked. I mean, maybe my parents spoiled him a bit …"

Sandor snorted.

"A bit? Fucking hells, Sansa, look at this place."

She did, and she knew it was a lot. But she also knew that her Dad and Bran had spent countless hours here, building Legos, talking, and playing. It had been somewhere for them to connect and had kept the peace between Ric and Bran. Ric got a Lego, built it and then promptly destroyed it. It had driven Bran mad for a few months before this solution had come up. Bran's Lego room was just something all the Starks accepted.

When she told Sandor that, she saw the warm look he got in his eyes and turned to see Ned standing in the doorway.

"With the others, it was easier. Robb, Ric and Arya lived for hockey, as much as I did. Sansa had her figure skating. But Bran…"

Both Bran and Boone had stopped to listen to Ned.

"I was different," Bran said, finishing his Dad's sentence, looking at his father. Ned pushed off the doorframe and walked to the building table, taking another seat that was there.

"You were. But different doesn't mean bad or wrong. I just had to find a way to connect with you."

Boone moved closer to Ned, who patted his knee. Boone scrambled into Ned's lap. "Papa, you played Legos?"

Ned chuckled warmly. "I did. Bran taught me a lot about it, and I learned a lot about what he liked."

"Sandor helped me with my Lego today."

"That's what Dads do. They help." Boone nodded slowly as if he was thinking about those words.

"I like my new mom and dad," he told Ned, quietly, but not quietly enough for Sansa not to hear. She found Sandor's arm tightening around her as she pressed her fist to her mouth to keep from crying out, rapidly blinking back the tears.

Now that Boone had Ned and Bran's full attention, the words just seemed to spill out, as his little hands played with the Legos. "I love my new house. It's warm, and it smells nice. And there's lots of food. Sandor kisses Sansa," he said, making Ned chuckle. "A lot," he added with a pointed look.

"Well, they love each other, and they love you."

Boone nodded and looked down at his Lego table. There was something on his mind.

"I'm not scared there," he whispered.

Ned's strong arms tightened around the little boy, and Sansa could see her usually very stoic father fight to keep his composure.

"That's good," was all Ned could say.

Ned's eyes met Sansa's, and she could see how proud he was of her.

Thankfully, Bran interjected to show Boone one of the Lego robots, Wall-E, and Ned was able to leave them to their toys. When he came to Sansa, he drew her into his arms.

"I'm so damn proud of you, Sansa. So proud," he told her. She let her Dad hold her, his words meaning the world to her. They, too, had come a far way since she'd come home. The family Sansa had always dreamed of, close-knit, tight and supportive was now a reality.

"Thanks, Daddy," she told him, feeling him kiss her head.

"You two are good people," Ned continued, including Sandor in his praise. "And I know we can do more. We should be doing more. More for kids like Boone."

Since both Sansa and Sandor agreed, they could only nod.

That night, Boone truly became part of the Stark-Clegane pack, and there wasn't anywhere else in the world that he belonged, except right here with his new family, that already loved him with their entire hearts.

* * *

_ Boone's New School – Sansa  _

Sansa knew that the new school was a big deal to Boone, so they had spent some time when they were tucking him in, talking about it.

"Did you like your old school?" Sansa asked. It had been one of the poorer, inner-city ones who didn't have many resources or support. It was one more area she thought that she and Sandor might make a difference. And while she felt for those kids and families that didn't have access like they did to the Academy, where Boone was now going to be enrolled, she needed to do what was best for him.

He was curled up against her, waiting for his story.

"Sort of," he said, giving a little shrug. Not wanting to push too much, Sansa left it for now.

The next morning, they woke Boone earlier, pleased he'd had another good night. Of course, the nightlight was on, the door remained slightly open, and the dogs were with him.

There were leftover waffles from the previous morning and a big glass of orange juice. Since they were just checking things out today, there was no need to bring any school supplies. Taking Boone back to his room, Sansa helped him pick out the clothes he wanted, smiling when he immediately went for a Wolves' t-shirt.

"Because of Sandor," he said to her. Of course. Boone looked at Sandor with a bit of hero worship in his eyes. 

On the drive to the school, which was only a few blocks away from Mama B and Addam's house, Sansa explained that the classrooms were smaller and that they did lots of arts and crafts and activities here.

The brick and ivory building looked like it cost a regular person's wage for yearly tuition and gave off that rarified air of a place only the truly wealthy could afford. For Sansa, this reminded her of the private school that she and her siblings had attended. But both Boone and Sandor looked a bit intimidated.

Thankfully, the principal was a warm woman named Mrs. Brown, who found her calling in life; teaching, nurturing and guiding children through elementary school.

Boone warmed to her immediately, and even Sandor's massive shoulder's relaxed as they got a tour of the school.

"I've let Boone's teacher know we will be stopping by, so the class is expecting him. Ms. Martin is a lovely woman, and she is excited about meeting you, Boone," Mrs. Brown told him. He was clutching at Sandor's hand as they knocked on the door. In her late twenties, a pretty woman gave them a warm smile and then knelt, so she was eye level with Boone.

"Hi, Boone. I'm Ms. M!" she said. Boone gave her a shy smile. "This is a very special day, as we've all been waiting to meet you."

She stood and offered him her hand, and Sansa was happy when he took it. They stood at the side and watched Ms. M work her magic, as Boone came alive under her gentle guidance and soft tones. The grade one class only had twelve other students, and within a minute of stepping inside, Jake, from Boone's hockey team, was calling his name.

The two boys were ecstatic to see one another, and Mrs. Brown turned to Sandor and Sansa. "I know we said we'd just do a tour today, but why not let him stay for a few hours. Perhaps come and get him around lunchtime," she said, as they all watched Boone's new classmates welcome him.

Seeing how well he was doing, they agreed, telling Boone they'd be back. He hugged them and then ran back to his new friends. Sansa was weepy as Sandor guided her towards his SUV.

"Alright, LB, have a cry," he said, chuckling as he held her.

"I'm like a faucet these days," she grumbled but snuggled closer. There was nothing quite like being in this man's arms. She held tight for a few minutes and then sighed, tilting her head up to gaze into his eyes.

The grey was almost smoky today, and Sansa knew he wasn't unaffected.

"So, we have a few hours," she said, a bit suggestively. "Our house isn't far!"

”Hell yeah,” he rumbled our. 

She let out a happy squeal as Sandor lifted her and brought her to her side of the vehicle, opened the door and almost dumping her in. They were a couple with a very physical relationship, and two days with a new person in their house, they held off being together. But now, it was apparent that Sandor was more than willing to make up for lost time.

Anticipation, happiness and desire were thick in the SUV as Sandor expertly navigated the suburban streets and aimed their vehicle towards home.

She reached for his hand, bringing it to her mouth, where she kissed it.

"Love you, big guy."

He sent her a sexy smirk and a little wink that had lust roll through Sansa, hot and thick.

"Love you, little bird."

"Hurry," was all she said, as Sandor gunned the SUV, and they raced home.

* * *

_ Wedding Plans and Playoffs – Sansa _

After that almost perfect first day of school for Boone, the rest of the week was good. The routine of school and how much Boone loved it made the first week pass relatively quickly.

Their family was incredible, stopping by to help, whether it was Mama B to help with lunches and dinners, or Catelyn, who liked spending time with Boone afterschool to read books and work on some of the fundamentals that Boone was behind in.

One afternoon, both Mama B and Cat found Sansa in her study and approached her with the idea of hiring some help. At first, Sansa had been slightly resistant and offended before her mother gave her a look.

"Sansa, dear, you are an incredible businesswoman, a wonderful mother, and soon you will be a wife. The fact of the matter is, you have so much on your plate, and while it's admirable to attempt to do it all, you don't have to."

"But, I mean, it's that a cop-out?" she asked, sipping at her tea.

Mama B chuckled and shook her head. "Oh gods, my dear, if I had your money and your workload, I'd have someone here cooking my meals and cleaning my house faster than I could snap my fingers."

That startled Sansa. Mama B was the ultimate wife and Mom.

"Really?"

"Oh gods, yes, Sansa. There is nothing wrong with getting help. You have two full time, demanding careers. A new child that needs extra love. A fiancé that also has a challenging profession that takes him out of town, two dogs and a lot of family and friends. Having someone help you will take nothing away from all your accomplishments."

Sansa had thanked them both and then thought about it all afternoon, finally bringing it up to Sandor that night in bed. She was snuggled in his arm, their TV muted, but on some sports channel that was discussing the upcoming playoffs.

"So what do you think? Good idea or bad?" she said, looking up at him.

"Fucking great idea," he said without a moment's hesitation.

Sansa's mouth dropped open. She pushed herself up on his massive chest and glared down at him.

"Seriously? That took you like two seconds to answer."

Sandor grinned and tugged on her hair, which had fallen like a curtain around them.

"Ahhh, don't get upset, LB. I think it's awesome since our lives are so busy." He shrugged. "I mean, we have a housekeeper already, what's adding someone to help with meals and some more cleaning?"

"But doesn't that make me lame? To need help?"

Sandor snorted, and Sansa huffed out an aggrieved little sigh.

"I'm serious. I mean, isn't a Mom supposed to be this person that can cook and bake and do all the housework?"

Sandor's massive chest rumbled as he flipped them quickly, so his huge body was ranged over her, making her feel all safe and cherished.

"Little bird, you're running a thriving business, raising a child, doing stuff for the Wolves' and just generally keeping shit running. Who the fuck cares if you don't cook?"

She worried her lip, biting at it. "Are you sure? I mean, I've seen how much you like Mama B's cooking …"

Sandor's lips were one hers. "Sansa, love, listen to me. You are incredible – an amazing mother and partner. I fucking love you, little bird. And it didn't bother me in the least that you couldn't boil water when we met. It still doesn't bother me. Running yourself ragged would piss me off."

He gave a little growl, and that ember of desire flared. It was always just there, and Sansa was done feeling guilty that she wasn't that Mom. They had the money, and they were busy. Having help didn't mean she was a failure. Feeling like a weight had lifted, Sansa canted her hips up, seeking Sandor. His dick was hard, and she moaned as she felt it press down into her core, his eyes going all smoky and dark.

"Sansa," he growled, and she groaned and writhed, knowing she was driving him wild. Then all thoughts fled, as Sandor set about to make her scream.

As the weekend drew closer, the buzz around the Winterfell Wolves' and the start of the playoff started to grow.

Dany, Drogo and Roc had all decided that they had to be in Wintertown for the Wolves' first two playoff games and so plans were quickly made for them to come and stay at their home.

Also coming North with Dany was Sansa's wedding dress. This was the first fitting, since they were so close to the date, and Dany and Sansa had been in almost constant communication about the dress. It was fitted, lace with a layered skirt that went well with Sansa's long and slim frame.

Sansa was so excited to see her dress for the first time and couldn't wait for Dany to arrive.

Sansa had met with Val this past week, and the woman was a godsend. She was the best wedding planner in the North, and she was worth every single dime of her ridiculous commission. Sansa knew that her wedding would be spectacular, and having Val deal with all the little things took so much pressure off of Sansa. The wedding invitations had gone out this week with their big day set for July 10th.

Since Sandor was busy preparing for their first playoff game on Saturday night, Sansa offered to go and pick the Drogo's up from the airport, bringing Boone with her.

"Who are these people?" Boone asked for the third time. She'd picked him up from school, and he was kind of whiny and out of sorts. Sansa thought it probably had something to do with new people coming to stay at their house. She'd hoped that Boone and Roc would get along, but she also knew that Boone had dealt with many changes that had come his way in the past week.

"Our friends from out of town. Roc is a year younger than you, sweetheart," Sansa told him, determined to keep things light and hope that she could stave off a meltdown. Boone was silent as Sansa saw the signs for the airport up ahead.

"Does he like hockey?"

Sansa smiled. "Yeah, baby, he loves hockey. Sandor is his favourite."

Boone crossed his arms. "Sandor is mine."

Sansa nodded. "Sandor is yours, Boone. He chose you. But, he's also the Hound. So many people love Sandor. He's ours, baby, but we also have to share him."

She could see Boone thinking about that, and he gave a small nod. "Ok."

She parked and then held out her hand. Boone's eyes widened as they walked inside their airport, and she wondered if he'd ever even seen a plane. She knew that Sandor wanted her and Boone to come with him for the away playoff games, so it was a good idea that Boone could now check out some planes before they ended up on the charter flight next week with the team.

His eyes were huge as they stood and watched a few planes land and take off, and his good mood was back when the flight from King's Landing was announced.

They stood together, hand in hand, as they waited for the Drogos.

They were soon there, Roc on his Dad's shoulders and Dany with her little bump. She was glowing, and the women hugged each other and squealed.

Roc scrambled down to stand in front of Boone, who was pressing himself against Sansa's leg. She ruffed a hand through his hair.

"Hi, I'm Roc," the dark-haired little boy said.

Boone pressed harder against her. His shyness was sweet but also a bit of a problem. Suddenly, Drogo dropped down to his knees.

"Hey, little man." Drogo had his fist out for a little bump. 

Boone peaked out to find Drogo and Roc smiling at him.

"I'm Drogo, and this little man here is Roc. What's your name?"

"Boone."

Drogo nodded as Sansa shared a soft look with Dany, who, pregnant and hormonal, was wiping away tears.

"Cool dude. We're here to watch some hockey. You like hockey?"

Boone nodded and bumped fists with Drogo. 

Somehow Drogo was drawing Boone out of his shy shell until both boys talked with him as the women walked behind as they went to gather their luggage.

Dany had a death grip on Sansa's hand.

"He's so incredible," Dany whispered as Sansa beamed.

"He is. We love him so much."

By the time they had everything loaded into Sandor's SUV, the boys were fast friends, and Dany talked a mile a minute about the wedding, Sansa's dress and the baby.

"Did you find out what you're having?"

"A girl!" Dany squealed, and Sansa joined in.

Sandor was waiting when they got home, having taken the Aston to the rink. Drogo and Sandor embraced as if they were long lost brothers before Roc launched himself at Sandor, who swung Roc up and around in his arms.

"HOUND!" the little boy cried. Sansa glanced down and saw Boone's lip quiver before Sandor winked at Boone and said, "Come here."

Boone wasted no time rushing to Sandor so that he carried both boys into the house, dropping them on the couch as the dogs began to lick them, and only happy giggles could be heard.

"How'd he do?" Sandor asked, pulling Sansa to his side, brushing his lips against her ear.

"Pretty good, all things considered. I think he's a bit unsure of his place, and we all know how much Roc loves you.” Sansa shrugged. "He'll adjust."

Sandor's one eyebrow winged up, and he gave her a smirk. "Well, well, well. Look at you with the tough love, LB."

Sansa blushed a bit but didn't back down. "Boone knows we love him. He's ours. But we also have friends, and soon Dacey and Robb will have a baby. He needs to learn to share."

Before she could even react, Sandor hauled her against his massive chest and kissed her hard. "Fuck, baby. Love it when you're bossy."

Since Sansa couldn't complain about being on the receiving end of some Sandor love, she just kissed him back, carding her hands through his hair. Drogo let out a loud wolf whistle, which made Sansa blush, but she didn't move away from Sandor. It all just felt too good, having their friends here in their home, along with Boone.

"They're always kissing," Boone whispered to Roc.

"So are my mom and dad," Roc said, sighing.

Sandor chuckled and then asked the boys if they wanted to check out Boone's room with some of the toys. They were soon all off, leaving Dany and Sansa to talk about weddings, husbands and babies.

While there were a few rough moments between the boys, for the most part, they spent the next day become fast friends. Bran came by early Saturday morning to take both boys down to Winterfell to check out the Lego room that Boone had told his new friend all about, giving Sansa some time with Sandor.

She could tell her guy was nervous but focused. He was an elite athlete, a man with a mission when it came to these playoffs. He'd confessed that he wanted this cup more than he'd wanted almost anything besides her and Boone. She knew he was under tremendous pressure to produce and that the team was the clear favourites. Everyone would be gunning for them, and the North had never won the cup. There wasn't a single person in the North that didn't want the Wolves' to win.

"What can I do?" Sansa asked when Sandor went to take his usual pre-game nap. Boone was with Dany, Drogo and Roc, giving Sansa and Sandor some quiet time.

"Just …. Be with me?" It a question, and Sansa heard the slight vulnerability there. She willingly crawled into bed with him. His big arms held her tight, and she knew that he was going through the game tonight in his mind. Eventually, he drifted off, and Sansa could sneak out of the room to find her foster son and friends.

A few hours later, Sansa's new housekeeper/cook had prepared a healthy meal for the group, earning groans from both little boys who had happily been playing with Legos.

Boone was scowling at the steamed broccoli until Sandor poured some cheese sauce on it. Suddenly, Boone's eyes lit up.

"Sansa, can I have some special snacks in the box?"

Sansa had to muffle a laugh as she nodded, trying to keep her face serious. "Yeah, buddy, if you and Roc eat your veggies, rice and chicken, you can have some special snacks."

Both boys plowed through their food, excited for the game and treats.

"The Nana's will be there as well," Boone told Roc, making all four adults smile. Mama B and Cat adored both boys. 

They went early with Sandor, as Drogo and Roc were eager to see some of the other Wolves' players. Both boys giggled when they realized they were wearing the same jersey with CLEGANE and #8 on the back. Dany and Sansa hung back as Drogo was warmly welcomed back to the Wolves' dressing room as the boys were treated like royalty by the players. Eventually, Sandor had a look in his eyes, and Sansa knew it was time to go.

She found him seated in his assigned spot, and he pulled her between his massive thighs.

"Hey, big guy, how are you doing?"

"Good," he all but grunted.

Sansa leaned down to brush her lips across his.

"Kickass," she said, a wicked little grin on her face.

Sandor cupped her ass and held her close. "Little bird, you're getting me all worked up."

She gave a husky laughed and kissed him, not caring about the whistles and raunchy calls. She stepped back when Boone popped up beside them. Sandor pulled Boone into his arms for a hug, and Sansa was close enough to hear the little boy whisper in Sandor's ear.

"Play good, Daddy."

Sandor's eyes rose to meet Sansa's, who had a fist in her mouth to keep back the sob that threatened to escape.

"Thanks, son. I will."

Then Boone gave him another hug, a high five and slipped his hand into Sansa's.

"Come on, Mama, you promised me snacks."

Sansa met Sandor's look, and she saw what she was sure was in her eyes, reflected. This was their family; this was their son. They had made it. Now all that was left was for Sandor to lead his team to the championship, get married and live their best lives possible.

"I did promise snacks," Sansa managed to say to Boone, who didn't seem to understand just how much his easy of them, and their love, meant.

When they reached the doorway, Boone turned back to wave at Sandor, before he and Roc were racing down the hallway, their laughter echoing, and heralding a lifelong friendship between the dark-haired Dothraki boy from Essos and the blond-haired orphan from the North.

Dany slipped her hand into Sansa's and squeezed hard; no words needed. Boone was home, and he'd chosen them. Sansa's life was full, her heart close to bursting, and everything she'd ever wanted, right here in the North.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> Playoffs and then all the wedding shenanigans


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playoffs, parties and the rehearsal dinner

* * *

_ Playoffs  _ _ – _ _ Sandor _

Sandor felt like every single one of thirty-two years as he tried to suck down enough Gatorade to get himself hydrated in time to go back out and play the third period.

They were tied, 2-2 with the Lannister Lions in game seven of the finals. One more goal, one more period and the championship would be theirs.

That was if they could dig deep and find that gear reserved for only the elite athletes in the world.

Ned talked about finding the will to win, but Sandor just closed his eyes and thought about why he was playing and who he was playing for – his family.

His will to win lay with Sansa and Boone. Mama B and Addam. Hell, even Cat.

In ten months since Sandor had been traded, his entire world had changed.

Last year at this moment, he was Captain of the Lions' and had led them to a championship. Sandor had thought that would be the highlight of his career.

Now, as he looked around the dressing room, Sandor knew _this_ team would always hold a special place in his heart.

There was Rickon, the rookie that bounced around like a happy puppy and had never let Sandor's bark get in the way of their friendship.

Robb, the cocky former Captain, son of the coach and all-around golden boy that had grown up right before Sandor's very eyes. Gone was the dude that had meaningless hookups and, in his place, a husband and soon to be father.

There was Ned, a man that Sandor had come to respect and care for a great deal. Ned had treated him like a son from the moment Sandor had stepped foot in the North. And soon, Sandor would be Ned’s son, as he married his daughter.

There were countless others.

Gendry.

Tormund.

Bronn.

On and on it went, right down to Sansa's sharp-tongued little sister and the funny stats guy, Sam.

This team was incredible, and Sandor knew they had something truly special in this room.

He'd found a family in the North – and not just with his hockey team.

With Sansa and Boone.

So Sandor sat on the bench, listening to Ned talk about motivation and thought about how they had rescued their son from an awful home. And he thought about what it felt like when Boone called him Daddy for the first time.

He smiled, thinking about that memories that made up these past few months and how good his life was. Hell, half the time he could hardly believe this was his life.

Sansa had been busy with her businesses, but the transition North had gone smoothly for MiSa. There was some talk about her being named businesswoman of the year in Wintertown, and how she'd single handily injected much needed, good-paying jobs into the North. If she had been beloved before, by now, she was practically a legend here. It was a toss-up who got asked for more selfies when they went out – her or him.

Boone had fit seamlessly into their lives. Not that life was perfect – because life was never perfect. But his issues hadn't been as pronounced as they'd expected. Sandor credited the school he went to, along with the child therapist they saw, along with the incredibly supportive family that surrounded Boone. Bran and Boone had bonded as well, and the Nana's were always just there for him.

Sansa and Boone had been to every single playoff game.

They'd tried to keep his presence on the down-low as much as possible, but it had come out, what he and Sansa had done, fostering Boone. They'd worked with Wyn to control the story and had shined a massive spotlight on the system in general, the children that needed help and the way that society was failing some of their most vulnerable members.

Sansa and Wyn already had plans for a massive fundraising campaign when the season was over.

In the meantime, the agency reported that they had more applications for foster parents than they had kids, which was something that never happened. Pressure had also been put on government agencies to properly staff and fund the foster care system so that what happened to Boone wouldn't happen to another child. There needed to be more resources available for the people that worked in the system to help support them and the children they were responsible for.

All in all, it had been a whirlwind.

And that didn't even account for the playoffs themselves, nor the massive wedding that Sansa was planning.

There were six groomsmen, plus his best man, which was Bronn. Whenever they weren't talking hockey, Bronn was attempting to plan an epic bachelor party. Sandor had firmly said no strippers and no strip clubs. He wanted something relatively chill and relaxed, which had Bronn pouting, but he'd gotten over it.

His wedding, his dream life, his happy ever after was so damn close, if only they could get their shit together and pull out this win. They'd been up in the series, three games to two when the Lion's had won game six. Sandor had been in a foul mood after that loss. They'd easily beaten Eyrie in Round One, then skated to a 4-1 series win over the Capitals. They'd gritted out six games against Dorne, earning their right to play the Lions for the championship.

Now he was one period away from being a back to back champion.

They just had to score. And keep the puck out of their net.

As Sandor stepped back on the ice, he glanced behind the bench to see Sansa and Boone sitting in their seats. Boone loved being close to the ice and loved seeing his Dad up close.

Sandor gave him a grin and suddenly, the weight lifted. No matter what happened on the ice, Boone was going to love him, and so was Sansa.

Sandor fucking flew in the third period. He was almost untouchable and set up Robb for the go-ahead goal with nine minutes to go. Sandor couldn't help but glance at the Lion's bench and see Jaime's frown. It had been Joff that had given the puck away, and Sandor had intercepted it.

As Sandor took his place on the bench, Ned clapped him on the back.

"Great fucking pass, Clegane," his coach said.

Sandor just grunted and focused on the ice. Now it was time to lock it the fuck down.

Ned shortened his bench, and Sandor found himself double shifting, out there with Gendry to put the hammer down on the Lions. There was one close call, but a crushing hit and a clear had their zone free. Ric threw the puck at the empty net, all but securing the Wolves' victory with that goal with just under thirty seconds left to play.

The arena went mad, and Sandor knew that the championship was theirs. Still, he was focused and took the thirty-second time out to gather his breath. No way was coach pulling him off for the final shift.

Twenty-eight second later, it was done, and the Wolves' had their first championship. The moment the buzzer went, the other players poured off the bench and all dog-piled onto Sandor and Tormund, screaming and yelling that they were champions!

It took a while until they were ready to shake hands with the Lions, and Jaime gave Sandor a warm hug in the lineup.

"Well done," Jaie told his old teammate.

"Thanks," was all Sandor said. A year ago, he was pissed as fuck that he'd been traded. Now? It had been the best move of his life.

There was the MVP presentation for the playoff series, and Sandor wasn't surprised when Robb's name was called. He was the leading scorer and had more than earned it.

Finally, though, it came time for the cup presentation.

As Captain, he'd be called to hoist the trophy first.

"And now, presenting the Stanley Cup to the Wolves' captain, Sandor, the Hound, Clegane," the WHL Commissioner said. The arena went mad, with howls and dogs barking, and Sandor's face split into a huge grin.

They'd fucking done it. He shook the commissioner's hand and then hoisted the Cup over his head, turning to his teammates, letting out a huge yell. They mobbed him again after he'd done a little skate with the Cup. When he felt he'd had his time, he kissed the Cup, then turned to find Bronn.

His best friend. Grinning, he handed it off to Bronn, who let out a yell and did his skate with the Cup. It would go to each guy, a chance to skate with the Stanley Cup. Un. Fucking. Believable.

Turning, Sandor searched for Sansa. He wanted his family.

He spotted Sansa, Boone, his parents, Cat, Bran, Arya, the Tully's who'd flown up for the finals, Dany, Drogo, Roc, Pod, Brienne, Wyn, Jeyne and pregnant Dacey all waiting for them on the bench. 

Grinning, he skated towards them, seeing Boone and Roc almost bouncing in excitement.

When he got closer, the boys were yelling his name. Sandor shot a quick grin to Sansa and then kissed her hard.

"Hey, big guy. Good game."

Sandor chuckled and kissed her again. Fuck she was his everything. Sandor already knew that last year would be his last in the league. He'd accomplished everything he'd wanted, and while he wanted one more season, he also had so much more to look forward to in his life.

"Love you so fucking much, little bird," he told Sansa, who was almost clinging to him.

Sandor was a bit caught up in Sansa when he heard, "Daddy! Take us for a skate."

Someone was tugging on his hockey pants.

He glanced down at Boone and Roc, to see both boys almost manic with excitement.

"I'm a sweaty mess," he warned them, but they didn't care.

He scooped them up into his arms and took them out on the ice, their howls of delight entertaining everyone.

"Uncle Robb has the Cup!" Boone cried, seeing Robb holding it up. Each guy would get a turn, and it was a moment they'd never forget.

Sandor skated over to Ned, who willingly took Boone in his arms.

"Papa Ned, this is pretty awesome," Boone said, making Ned chuckle. Boone had no idea how special this moment was.

Roc was wide-eyed being on the ice with the rest of the Wolves' players. Eventually, after all the guys had a turn with the Cup, Sandor took the boys back to the bench and then joined his teammates for a traditional on-ice photo with the Cup.

After that, the celebration continued in the dressing room, where the champagne flowed, and the guys welcomed their loved ones to celebrate with them. T-shirts proclaiming them champions, along with hats somehow found their way onto their hats and bodies.

Sandor spotted Addam and raced to hug his father. After all, the Marbrand's had sacrificed so damn much for him, and who knows where Sandor would have even ended up, had it not been for them. Mama B was a faucet, crying and laughing and joking with his teammates after she’d hugged him hard.

Cat, always so dignified, kissed his scarred cheek and told him how proud she was of him.

"I'm glad you fought hard to be here to see all this,” Sandor told her, meaning every word. She was as much a warrior as any guy on this team.

She blushed prettily, and Sandor swore her eyes teared.

“Oh my boy, I can’t wait until you’re one of us,” she said, and Sandor’s heart swelled that she loved him so much.

Hoster Tully was pleased to "finally have a winner in the family," a not so subtle dig at the fact that Ned never won the Cup as a player. Mini promised that they'd celebrate this summer, as she was moving north to help Sansa with the wedding.

Sandor saw Sansa pale when her granny made that announcement and vowed to have enough gin and vodka on hand to dull the bluntest Minisa Tully edges.

Rickon was like a live spring, fucking bouncing between everyone, and he had Sandor wrapped up in a hug.

"WE DID IT, MAN!!!!"

Sandor shook his head at the rookie. Fucking kid was so spoilt, winning it in his first year. Still, it was awesome to see him so happy. Sandor liked to think he’d been a good influence on Ric this season.

Robb had cleared a spot for Dacey, who was leaning against him as she sat on the bench. Robb had a hand on her bump and looked so content that Sandor was stunned; this was the same guy he'd met at training camp that chased women and partied too much. It was awesome to see.

Eventually, with two exhausted boys, Cat and Ned, picked them up to take them home to Winterfell, while everyone else got dressed and walked, slightly drunk, over to Dacey's bar to continue the celebration.

Sandor rarely allowed himself to tie one on, but that night, with their new championship still fresh in his mind, and a sense of accomplishment that went beyond just winning the Cup, Sandor indulged. His soon to be wife had stopped drinking ages ago, so she and a very pregnant Dany helped Drogo and him to the SUV.

They were singing loudly, and off keep and kept bursting into laugher, as they clutched at each other’s, their significant others not quite as amused as they were. God, he’d found another lifelong friend in the man from Dothrak.

“Brothers, right?” Drogo said, suddenly serious as they opened the back doors to the SUV.

“Fucking brothers for life!” Sandor cried and both men happily climbed into the truck.

Sansa snorted and told them to buckle up.

Somehow he got home and had no idea how he got himself to the bathroom, where he stripped naked and took a piss. Eventually, he made it to their bed and fell, almost face-first into the soft bedding. Sansa, bless her, kissed his cheek and then wished him a good night.

"Where are you going?"

Had he been sober, he would have seen her incredulous look.

"You're so drunk that I can practically feel the snores from here. No thanks. We have one month to our wedding and I have a million things to do."

In his drunken state, that sort of made sense.

"Love you so fucking much Sansa," he mumbled before he felt himself drift off.

His last thought was that he'd fucking done it, and he, even more, he'd found the woman he was going to marry. And all because he'd come North.

* * *

Five days after their win, Sandor sat beside Sansa and Boone as they participated in the traditional cup parade through the streets of Winterfell. What made this win better than the one with the Lions was that everywhere Sandor looked, he saw either a friend or his family. It was a crazy thought for a man that had mostly been a loner his entire life, that he had this massive network of people now around him.

Sandor wanted to talk with Ned in the off-season about his plans post-playing days. He would give the Wolves’ one more season and then retire.

But even when he stopped playing, he didn't want to leave hockey for good and hoped Ned had some leads or insight into coaching jobs. Sandor also though that it would be fun to coach Boone's team, and he secretly hoped that by the time he retired next year, Sansa might be pregnant.

Having Boone only solidified Sandor's desire to have a big family. He was older than Sansa by eight years; his career had run its course. Now was the time for him to step up, to give her that chance to follow her dreams and be the support system they needed at home.

Contentment filled Sandor. He had one last year to bask in the agony and ecstasy from being an elite athlete. He was going out on his terms; at the height of his career. It felt good. It felt right.

"Care to share those deep thoughts, big guy?" Sansa said, snuggling up to him.

Sandor brushed a kiss across her temple. "Next year is my last year, San."

She titled her head, gazing up at him, questions in her eyes. He smiled softly at her and kissed her again, making the crowd go wild, seeing them like this.

"It's my decision, babe. I'm totally good with it. It's what I want," he said when he finally stopped kissing her.

She must have seen something in his face because she gave a slow nod.

"Alright. Whatever you want, Sandor. As long as you’re happy with your choice.”

He wrapped a big arm around her and waved at the crowd. The people in the North were still celebrating their win. Sandor hoped he could duplicate it again next season, but even if he didn't, he'd done more than enough in his career to be proud of himself.

"I do want it, little bird. I want to be home, with Boone, and you. Travel is a killer, and I want to go out on my terms. Top of my game, babe."

He felt her relax and knew she got it. The woman understood him like no one else ever had. She squeezed his massive thigh and gave a slow nod, as a smile graced her beautiful face.

"And maybe another child, if we're lucky."

Warmth spread through Sandor at that thought. "Fuck yeah, babe. I can't wait."

"Neither can I, Sandor. Neither can I."

* * *

_ Bachelorette Party  _ _ – _ _ Sansa _

Two weeks before her wedding, and Sansa was packing to go away for her bachelorette party. They were heading off to the Summer Islands for a weekend of sun, pampering and girl time.

It was the first time she'd be away from Sandor and Boone since Boone came home with them.

She was nervous about leaving them, and a bit sad if she were honest. Which was kind of silly and she was trying to remind herself that Sandor was perfectly capable of taking care of Boone for a weekend by himself. Especially since Ric and Bran lived on their property. And both grandpas were around as well.

Dany couldn't make it, as she'd given birth to her daughter a week ago, but everyone else, including Dacey, had committed.

Mini, Cat, Mama B, Jeyne, Arya, Wyn, Gilly, Brienne, Dacey and her. Ten women who would spend a weekend drinking, eating and being pampered. That part sounded blissful.

Sandor was having his bachelor party at the same time. Since he’d absolutely refused anything wild, including strippers and bars, the guys were golfing, hitting up a local brewery, and then having a big, catered bar-b-que at their house. They had some poker and other games planned, but it was very chill and totally what he wanted.

He was surprisingly good with how low key it was, while Bronn and Tormund had to be reined in when it came to some of the wilder ideas. Sandor didn't want any of that shit, he'd explained.

"Why the fuck would I want to look at some other woman?" he’d asked, bewildered, when Bronn had bitched about the lack of female entertainment. “Sansa’s the hottest woman I know.”

Sansa freaking loved him for it. He confessed that he'd never seen the appeal of multiple men paying a woman to strip down to her pasties.

Since he'd confessed his decision to retire after next season, Sansa swore she'd seen him relax more than she'd ever known. He was riding high on winning the championship, along with having found his place in the North. She still remembered the angry man with a chip on his shoulder that first week of training camp. That Sandor was nothing like the man, she was marrying in two weeks.

When they touched down on the islands, the smell of coconuts, beach and salt air assaulted her senses, and Sansa let out a happy little squeal.

"Oh my god, we're here!" she said, clutching at Wyn's hand.

She glanced around to see her tribe of women, there to support her as she took this next step in her life. They had built such an incredible life in the North.

The weekend was everything Sansa had ever dreamed about. They laughed, they ate and drank, and Sansa heard beautiful stories about love and marriage. They spent hours being massaged and pampered and on Saturday night, they had dinner right on the beach, with delicious seafood served as the sun set over the sea.

"It's so beautiful," Sansa sighed wistfully, laying her head on her mom's shoulder.

That was the real miracle – that Cat had beaten back her cancer and was able to enjoy all these moments with her family.

“It is love. Thank you for having us all here.” Sansa and Sandor had picked up the full tab for this girl’s weekend.

“Always, Mama.”

Sansa's phone buzzed, and she opened it to see a picture of Boone 'helping' grill with a little chef's hat on.

Sansa's heart almost melted, thinking of her guys. There was a little video of Boone concentrating as he put some sauce on the ribs. Then he turned and grinned at her.

"Mama, I looooooooove ribs!" He was smacking his lips and grinning, as Bronn and Tormund gave him pointers.

In such a short time, Boone had gone from having almost no one in his corner to the entire Wolves' team, the Stark family and the Marbrands. The best part was, he soaked up the love and attention like a greedy sponge. He loved the attention and he wasn’t shy around their huge group of family and friends.

Sansa laughed and showed the others, who all made the appropriate sounds of appreciation for Boone.

"You fell in love with a good man," Cat whispered to Sansa.

"Oh god, I did, Mom. I really, really did."

Harry seemed like a dim, distant memory, and for the life of her, it was hard to recall why she'd ever stayed with him for so long. Coming North had given Sansa everything she'd ever wanted.

She felt her mom rest an arm around her shoulder, as they both watched Arya entertain their group with funny stories from the Wolves' team, each woman exceedingly grateful that they were here, that this day had come and that the Stark family continued to thrive and grow.

* * *

_ Bachelor Party  _ _ – _ _ Sandor _

Sandor chuckled at Boone, who was licking the Bar-B-Q sauce the grill master they'd hired had made. It was one of three, and sweeter than the other ones.

“This one is so good,” Boone said, making the man smile.

The entire weekend had been near perfect, besides minus missing Sansa like fucking crazy.

Sandor had been serious when he'd told Bronn he didn't need some wild weekend to mourn the last of his singledom. He was more than ready to be married and to start a family. There was nothing to mourn about being alone and miserable most of his life.

They'd golfed today, with Hoster and Bran begging off and watching Boone.

Sandor wanted to get him into the sport, but they were going to the preeminent club in the North, and it was way too much for a six-year-old. Ned had secured them spots, and Sandor was stunned by how many of the guys from the team showed up.

In fact, there were only one or two missing, along with Drogo, who was by Dany's side down in King's Landing, watching over her and their new daughter. Sandor had shed a tear or two when his buddy had held up that tiny bundle swaddled in pink, such a contrast to his tattooed forearms.

That's what Sandor wanted. A family.

He'd been paired with Ned, Addam and Ric for their round of golf, and it was nice to have his Dads to talk with. The two men were close, and they were fonts of support for Sandor. Addam was helping Ric with his swing when Ned wandered up to Sandor.

"So, last season coming up, huh?"

Sandor startled and stammered, trying to think of what to say. How did Ned know?

He hadn't even told his agent. Had Sansa said something to her father? He dismissed that thought almost immediately. She wouldn't.

"How'd you know?" Sandor finally asked.

Ned gave a cryptic little smile and shrugged.

"You're the type of man that wants to go out on his terms. You've won almost everything there is to win. You're at the top of your game. And I see how you are with Boone. I love my life, Sandor and wouldn't trade it for anything, but I missed things in my kids' lives because I was playing hockey."

Relieved that Ned wasn't upset, Sandor nodded slowly.

"I want to coach," he blurted out and then felt his cheek warms. _Why the fuck did he say that? __It was a dream, and one only Sansa knew. What if Ned thought that ridiculous?_

Ned's big hand rested on his shoulder.

"Well, when you feel the time is right, you come and find me, and we'll talk. I can get you started."

Deeply touched, Sandor could only nod.

"Thanks, Dad," Sandor said, trying it out.

He saw Ned startle, then a huge smile bloom across his face.

"That's right, son."

Sandor just stood there in awe. He had a fucking family. Finally.

Soon enough, Ric was bouncing and calling his name, and the moment between Ned and Sandor was broken.

Still, the feeling lingered, and Sandor rode that high the rest of the day. Through lunch at the club with the guys and the cigars, they smoked, and the incredible meal prepared for them and then went to the batting cages before catching an afternoon ball game with their local team. Boone and Bran joined them, and Boone was utterly fascinated at watching another live sport.

When they finally got back to their house, the late afternoon sun was warm, and the grill master was already setting up. The guys opened the patio and pool, and music played, as the dogs were in heaven having people to endlessly throw balls for them.

And at the heart of it all, Boone, who was laughing and playing with all the guys.

Sandor had a pleasant buzz going when he sent Sansa the little video of Boone helping cook. He'd expanded his palate in the past few months remarkably well and had filled out, so he looked like any other healthy six-year-old boy. They had some birthdays coming up – Sandor's at the end of July, Sansa in August and then Boone in October.

As he sipped beer and watched his friends and family, Sandor couldn't help but think of the papers upstairs in Sansa's desk.

Adoption papers, for Boone. They were going to explain everything to him on the day of the wedding – and get things started so that he would be theirs permanently.

As the sun finally set over the mountains in the North, Sandor had Boone snuggled on his lap as they all gathered around the roaring fire the Stark's had built. His son was dozing, half awake, half asleep, but unwilling to go to bed. Sandor didn't mind much. He'd take him up soon enough.

The weekend had been perfect, with the people he cared about here to celebrate him and Sansa.

When Robb rose and shuffled his feet, Sandor bit back the grin at how uneasy he appeared, then Ric and Bran joined him, and Sandor suddenly realized that he was going to have brothers again. More than just his hockey buddies – men that were part of his family.

"So um, when you first arrived, I thought you were an asshole."

There were some hearty agreements, and Sandor tipped his head in acknowledgement. He had been an asshole when he'd first arrived. Bitter, pissed off, kind of a loner.

"I knew when Dad traded for you, for the Hound, our team would be better."

Again, more cheers.

Robb's eyes locked on Sandor's, and he marvelled at how much he'd grown up.

"But I never expected that you'd make my sister so happy. I'm excited to watch you marry Sansa next weekend and to welcome you to the Stark pack!"

Sandor rose and handed a sleeping Boone off to Addam, who was gazing at Sandor with such pride that the tears were threatening again.

Fuck, how would he ever get through his wedding without blubbering like a fool was anyone's guess.

But still, he didn't mind the few that leaked out as the Stark boys embraced him, and then Ned as well.

That night, happily drunk and in his bed, Sandor reached for his phone.

**Sandor: Love you so much, LB. Hurry home. Miss you**

He was out before she could reply, but her message was there in the morning.

**Sansa: Miss you too big guy! Heading home now. See you tonight. xoxo**

* * *

_ Rehearsal dinner  _ _ – _ _ Sansa  _

After months of planning, her wedding was finally here!

Sansa could barely contain her excitement. Tomorrow morning, three hundred and fifty people would descend upon Winterfell to watch her marry Sandor Clegane!

Tonight was their rehearsal dinner, held at Winterfell, with their close friends and family, under white tents with endless tea lights and elegantly set tables. The Starks had spared no expense when it came to Sansa's wedding.

While tomorrow would be a more public spectacle and one that Sansa wanted, tonight was just for them. They'd already agreed to sell their wedding photos and donate the money to the two causes dearest to their hearts – foster care and animals in need.

Sansa and Sandor arrived at Winterfell together, with Boone, her guys decked out in khaki shorts and blue button-down shirts. Boone had been delighted to dress like Sandor and had been excited all day about the upcoming wedding. Sansa was wearing a white sundress and wedges, the tan she'd acquired a week ago on the beach, making her skin radiant.

Everyone was here, including the bridal party. Arya, as her maid of honour and the bridesmaids Dany, Wyn, Dacey, Jeyne, Gilly and Brienne.

Sandor's best man Bronn, and groomsmen, Drogo, Jon, Robb, Gendry, Tormund and Rickon.

Bran had got himself ordained and was going to conduct the ceremony for them.

Dany was practically glowing as she held her baby, Cat and Mama B doting on her. Sansa had gotten her baby snuggles in with Rhae earlier, and there was an ache that meant she was more than ready for that part of her life to start. She wanted a huge family and couldn't wait to begin trying to get pregnant.

Yohn was here, along with Pod, Shireen, Stannis, Renly and Loras. Marg would arrive tomorrow, along with some of their other friends from university.

Sam and Gilly had hit it off almost immediately, and Shireen was busy talking with Bran, Meera, Pod and Jojen.

Sansa loved seeing these different blends of essential people in her life, all mixed up and having a good time together.

Sandor, the Mini Tully whispered, had worked his magic again, so Sansa's grandmother wasn't quite so acerbic in her comments, although she had plenty to say about Drogo and his tats. Sandor just kept refilling her martini glass, and Drogo shared a wink with Sandor, getting a kick out of Mini.

Thankfully everyone was having a good time, and as they sat at the head of the table, Sansa and Sandor shared a look. This was their family – this was their pack.

Ned and Cat then rose, hand in hand.

Ned cleared his throat, and everyone quieted down.

"I wanted Sandor Clegane on my hockey team for one simple reason. He was the best damn player in the league. I knew if I had him, our team would have a shot at winning the Cup."

There was a round of acknowledgement at that, and Sansa saw what her father's words meant to Sandor. She squeezed his hand harder and moved closer to him.

"What I didn't know was the kind of man that I'd be getting. It was clear within the first week of practice that Sandor was what the Wolves had been missing."

"Thank, coach!" Bronn yelled, making everyone laugh. "Make me feel like last nights' leftovers."

Ned shook his head at Bronn, grinning.

"What I didn't know was that Sandor Clegane was a piece that was missing from our pack. Starks have been in the North for thousands of years. The North is in our blood; it's who we are. We're a pack. And Sandor had fit into that pack seamlessly. I've never doubted that he loves my daughter; never doubted that he will provide for her, care for her, make her dreams come true. But it's more than just Sansa that convinced me that Sandor was meant to be part of this family. Sandor loves this family. We have all seen what he did for Robb and Ric. And for my wife."

There was hardly a dry eye in the tent, as everyone turned to look at Cat. Ned was gazing so tenderly at her, that Sansa’s heart clenched. She loved how much her parents still loved one another.

"It's no secret that I love my wife, even more than hockey."

That broke some of the tension, but by now, Sansa just let her tears flow, happy for waterproof mascara.

"When we got Cat's diagnosis, Sansa didn't hesitate to come home – to drop everything to be here for her family. We raised our children to chase their dreams and be independent, but we also raised them to love their family and be there for one another. When Sandor first met Cat, I knew that there was something special about him. Not many people brightened her days during those early months. But Sandor did. What they have, their connection is private, and between them. But I’ve never been more grateful that Sandor made such an impact on both Sansa and Cat. I am proud to welcome Sandor to the Stark pack and call him my son!"

Ned held up his glass.

"To Sansa and Sandor!"

Sansa bit back the sob as she pressed herself against Sandor. She couldn't believe her father's words – how they made her feel. And she saw the stunned awe on Sandor’s face. Her parents came over to hug them, and Sansa pressed herself against her father.

"Thanks, Daddy."

"Anytime lemon drop. You've picked a good one."

They saw Cat cling to Sandor, who was sniffling and wiping away tears. Her Dad was right. Their bond was something extraordinary.

Brenda and Addam were next, and they were trying to gather themselves after that emotional display by the Starks.

"Well," Mama B said, fanning her face. "How do I top that?"

The laughter was welcome.

But then her face got serious, which wasn't something Sansa saw often.

"Sometimes, in life, you're not always dealt the best hand. Our Sandor knows all about that, as do Addam and I.”

She paused then, and let everyone think about that.

“Sandor came into our lives, at a point that I’d lost a little bit of hope. I was grieving, missing my son. I’d lost my hope that people were good, hope that my life might have some meaning, hope that I wasn't meant to be sad. I didn’t know what my path forward was. I knew I was meant to be a mother, but my son was gone. Then my husband, whom I love, brought this boy home that needed us."

Sansa bit back another sob. God, the parents were going to kill them. Sandor was almost shaking, as he looked at his adopted mother.

Mama B waved a hand. "We won't go into too many details of that story, but suffice it to say that I became a wee bit protective over my Sandy."

There were chuckles at the thought of this diminutive woman being 'protective' over the Hound. But anyone who knew her knew it was true.

"I knew my Sandy was something special from the moment he came home. I knew he'd meet someone, one day, that would be worthy of him – worthy of how much he cares, how deeply he loves."

Sansa just let the tears come again as Mama B gazed lovingly at her.

"When I found out he was dating the Sansa Stark, well, I won't lie and say I wasn't a bit star-struck. I admit to following here on all here social media platforms. And buying her make-up. She was so down to earth and beautiful, and she was someone you felt that even though she was a celebrity, you could be friends with her."

Sansa blushed as everyone gave a chorus of "awwwwwws."

"But I was also a touch worried. I know how much Sandor cares and when he said he was dating her, well, I didn't want him to get hurt."

Sandor draped his arm around Sansa and gave her a look. They both remembered when Mama B had arrived in the North.

"He invited us North, to watch his first game with his new team, and I took one look at her, and I knew she was the woman for him. She makes him smile more, and slow down to do the fun things, the little things. She's so smart and talented, and yet, at her heart, she'd a woman that wants the same things that he does. Love. Family. Home. I've never met two people who complement each other so well, and I am so excited to have a daughter finally. So Sansa Stark, thank you for loving our Sandy, and welcome to our family."

Sansa was an incoherent mess by the time she was hugging the Marbrands, and it took a while for her to calm down. Finally, she had herself under control and gave Sandor a look.

Rising, holding hands, the thirty people gathered quieted and looked at them.

"Well, first off, not sure how we're going to top those speeches."

Everyone laughed, and Sansa gazed out at the people who were here for them.

"We just want to say thank you all so much for coming here tonight to help us celebrate. We couldn't be more grateful that you've taken this time to be here, as we take this next step in our life, as we become a family and pledge ourselves to one another.

There was a cheer and clapping, and Sansa turned to lay her hand on Sandor's chest.

"I always dreamed of having a great love. Since the time I was a kid, I spent hours planning my dream wedding."

"She's not lying," Arya called out, making people chuckle. Sansa didn't care; she was _that_ woman and owned it.

"Anyone who knows Sandor knows that this isn't his thing."

There was laughter, and Addam smiled and nodded.

"But. This man, when he loves, he does so without reservations. He throws himself into it, headfirst. He's the guy I've been waiting for my entire life, and I'm so excited to become his wife tomorrow."

Sansa held up her wine glass for a toast, as there were whistles and shouts of _SANSAN FOREVER!_

Sansa gazed up at Sandor, who appeared comfortable even with being the center of attention. She knew she'd pushed hard to have her dream wedding, and that he would have been OK with a beach and them, but he'd done this for her.

He cleared his throat and put his arm around her, drawing her closer to him.

"As everyone knows, I wasn't the happiest guy in the world when I was traded to the Wolves."

There were guff's and scoffs, and Sandor grinned at it all.

"Then I saw Sansa fucking Stark walk into the Wintertown Arena. I might have been an ass," more hoots and jeers, "BUT," Sandor said, drowning them out, "I knew at that moment this woman would change my life."

The crowd let out collective awe, and Sandor shuffled his feet.

"Sansa Stark is an incredible person, and I'm just the lucky fucking guy she somehow fell in love with. Thanks for joining us," he said, holding up his glass for another toast.

They sat back down, and Sansa nuzzled against his neck. "Good job, big guy."

He smirked at her and shook his head. "Only for you, babe."

The first few dinner courses were served; appetizers and summer salads, and before the main course was brought out, Bronn clinked his glass and rose, throwing his napkin down on the table. Sansa reached for Sandor's hand and squeezed. This should be interesting.

Bronn was drinking whiskey and held up his tumbler, looking at the two of them.

"Sansa, I've known this … guy," he said, smirking, toning down the language for Boone. Someone slipped some headphones onto their son, and Bronn grinned, leash off.

"Truth is, this fucker has been my best friend for years. Protected my ass on the ice, had my back off of it. And for someone so fucking talented, he remained shockingly humble through it all. I won't lie – we were both pissed when we got traded North. I thought I was gonna freeze my fucking balls off."

Sansa shook her head and laughed at Bronn.

"One look. One fucking look at you, and that was all it took. Then you opened your mouth and put him in his place, and our boy was fucking done. He's loyal as the day is long, and no one will ever protect you and your family the way he will. He's one of the good ones, Sansa, and I'm fucking glad he has you."

Everyone toasted as Arya took Bronn's spot.

Sansa had no idea what might come out of her little sister's mouth. They weren't exactly super close, but they were sisters, and they loved one another.

"It's no secret that Sansa and I are as different as two sisters can be."

Everyone smirked at Arya's opening statement.

"While Sansa was twirling around on her white figure skates, I was trying to keep up with the boys. She was planning her dream wedding, and I was planning how I was going to be the first woman to make it to the WHL."

Arya shrugged.

"Neither one of us imagined that our lives would come full circle. The thing is, Sansa is beautiful. And smart. Kind. Talented. And lots of people assume that things come easy to her, or that my parents helped her. The truth is, Sansa is a fucking workhorse. This woman had a spine of steel. She goes after what she wants. She never backs down. She doesn't take no for an answer."

The tears were back. Sansa couldn't believe what Arya was saying. She never thought her family knew or understood how hard she'd worked.

"I knew when these two idiots were all snippy with each other, and something was there. At first, I watched Sandor like a hawk. No man was going to treat her like her ex. But I never had to worry. He might be the Hound on the ice, but he's a puppy dog for Sansa. When she was threatened, he was there. He's always going to be there. I might never want a wedding like this, sorry Mom and Dad," Arya said, making people laugh, "But I knew that Sandor would give Sansa her dreams. All of them."

"Arya," Sansa whispered, wanting to hug her sister.

"Let me finish, San. I knew when you two found Sweetie, that this was forever for the two of you. And then you brought Boone into our lives. I don't think the two of you get the impact that you have. On us. On people in the North. On everyone. I'm so fucking proud of you, San, and I'm thrilled you're not marrying that douchbag you were dating."

Sandor chuckled at the two sisters hugged before Arya punched him on the shoulder. "Welcome to the wolf pack, dog."

"Still a fucking brat," he retorted back and then hugged her hard. "Thanks."

The rest of the night passed in a blur of drinks, food and companionship until finally, Cat shut it down and herded Sansa upstairs. She was spending the night at Winterfell, while Boone and Sandor went back to their house.

As Sansa said goodbye to Sandor, she clung just a little bit more than usual.

"The next time I see you, I'm going to be wearing my wedding dress!"

Sandor grinned. "Fucking right, you are."

"No cold feet?"

Sandor stilled. "Fuck no, Sansa. Gods, no. You?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Not at all." She paused and then kissed him hard. "I'm going to be your wife!"

Sandor hugged her harder, and she knew what this meant to both of them. On the surface, they might not look like they had a lot in common, but they were very much in sync when it came to their core values.

"Time to go, Hound," Ric called. He had a sleepy Boone in his arms.

One last kiss and then her soon-to-be husband was out the door, and Sansa was left with her mother, grandmother and sister to have one last night as an unmarried woman before she became Mrs. Sansa Clegane.

* * *


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A whirlwind year post-wedding for Sansan

* * *

_ The Honeymoon  _ _ – _ _ Sandor _

Sandor slipped his hand into Sansa's as they walked towards their cabana on the beach, ready to spend their last day in paradise on the beach with each other. They'd been married for just over two weeks now, and he still caught himself staring at the platinum band on his ring finger.

He was a married man!

A very happily married man.

Their wedding had gone off without a hitch – the day absolutely perfect. Sandor had to hand it to Sansa; she'd somehow pulled off the wedding of the decade. It had helped that their friends and family were all there, along with Sansa's wedding planner Val.

And Sandor half though the universe wouldn’t dare mess with her on her special day. Not that she’d been a bridezilla – but. In the end, it had been perfect, and even he thought so.

Sandor had to hold back tears multiple times during the day. First, when he and Boone donned their matching tuxes at their house, and then had Addam, Ric and Bran all show up at the house to take them down to Winterfell. Sansa had set up a room just for the guys, and seeing Bronn and Tormund, along with Jon, Drogo and Robb, there, for them, made Sandor realize just how deeply he was loved. Mama B had come to find Sandor right before the ceremony, and he had cried then, seeing how happy she was.

He and Boone walked out to the arch together, where Bran waited for them, along with his best man and groomsmen, and their two dogs, both of whom were on their best behaviour.

When Sandor finally turned, hearing the wedding march start, the three-hundred and fifty guests faded, and the only thing he could concentrate on was Sansa. She stole his breath she was that beautiful.

Her dress was lace and fitted on the top, with a flared bottom that showed off her incredible figure. She wore the necklace and bracelet that matched her engagement ring, and a diamond tiara in her hair. She had both her parents walk her down the aisle, and when she spotted him, the smile on her face was so huge, he knew that she wanted this as much as he did.

"Mama's beautiful," Boone had whispered, making those around them laugh. It seemed to take forever before Ned and Cat finally got her to him and willingly handed her over.

Finally, she was just there, standing before him, her hands in his as Boone stood between them.

The ceremony has been straightforward and relatively simple, but beautiful, their vows their own, as they promised to love one another for the rest of their lives. They'd written vows to Boone as well, and finally told him about the adoption and how he too would be a Clegane. He'd let out a happy cry and then produced their rings. Seeing Sansa slide his wedding ring on his hand was one of the best moments of Sandor's entire life.

When Bran finally said that Sandor could kiss Sansa, he hadn't wasted any time and then announced the new Mr. and Mrs. Clegane. Sansa Stark was a household name, so the fact that she was taking his name in private meant something to Sandor. No longer was he ashamed of his family. He'd made something out of himself.

After that, the day had been a blur of photographs, drinks, dancing, food and people. Everyone wanted to talk to them or have a picture with them, and thankfully, with everything at Winterfell, they were able to mix and mingle and enjoy their wedding celebration.

Now, here with her on their honeymoon, Sandor was reliving those happy memories, as he glanced at his ring again, loving what it looked like there. He squeezed Sansa's hand and was pleased when she smiled at him, looking gorgeous, sun-kissed and relaxed.

She'd been a nervous wreck leaving Boone for a week. Before Boone, Sansa had wanted three whole weeks for them, but there was no way either one of them would be able to be away from Boone for that long. They'd settled on a week, and even then, she'd cried when they'd dropped him off at Nana B and Papa Addam's house.

Sandor's parents were splitting the Boone babysitting duties with Ned and Cat, and their son was excited. Especially for Bran's Lego Room and baking with Nana B.

Seeing their son adjust so well to both of their families had given Sansa the confidence to go on their honeymoon, which had pleased Sandor greatly.

He wanted a family, loved Boone and couldn't wait for Sansa to become pregnant. But he had also craved this time with his wife, as a newly married man. Sandor had no plans to have a second wife, so these moments with Sansa were vital to him.

Thankfully, the moment they'd arrived on Arbor Island, she'd fallen instantly in love with their private villa and the many activities the island offered. And the many places and creative ways he made love to her all over said villa.

They'd spent days hiking, snorkelling and going on wine tours. Each night, they'd strolled hand in hand in the little village where their villa was, picking out different restaurants and lingering over fantastic meals.

Often Sansa would stop for gelato and bring a little tub home with them, where Sandor would proceed to make love to her again – on the massive island in their temporary kitchen, by the pool, or in the vast California king bed that dominated their room, as the waves crashed outside, and the warm breeze cooled their heated skin.

He'd eaten more gelato off Sansa's body in this past week than he'd ever had ice cream in his life, and damn if he hadn't developed a fondness for licking her to her orgasms. Nothing got him going like going down on her, making her moan and pant and scream his name. She was incredible when she came, pulsing on his tongue that lapped up everything she gave him.

His need for her was all-consuming, and she'd stopped her pills, so they both knew there was an excellent chance that she'd be pregnant soon. There was some primal part of Sandor's brain that was fixated on seeing his seed catch in her womb, to watching her grow larger with their child inside her. He'd worried she'd be too sore by the time the week was out, given how many times they'd made love, but it seemed she was just as needy as he was.

Of course, they Facetimed with Boone twice a day, and he was having the best time with his grandparents. Sandor and Sansa had started his adoption paperwork the Monday after being married and expected a hearing in early September.

The other thing that Sansa indulged in was shopping. She dragged Sandor to so many shops he was sure he'd never need to see the inside of a store again, and then laughed when she had to buy an extra suitcase for all her purchases.

"Well, I have so many people to thanks. My bridesmaids, your groomsmen, our families."

Sandor had only smirked and shook his head at her, unable to do anything but indulge her.

She often wore her bikini over a loose sundress and sandals, her skin bronzing up in the sun. His lips could be found tracing that soft skin that he loved so much and was on display here. She stole his breath every day, and seeing their linked hands, with both their rings flashing, made Sandor want to pound his chest in victory.

Sansa was his.

Though they were recognized around the little village where they stayed, they were hardly ever approached, and within a few days, they both revelled in their freedom to not have to stop and sign autographs and pose for pictures. Sandor had caught more than one person checking Sansa out, and it never failed to make him smirk when their eyes caught her massive rings and the fact that she always seemed to be touching him. It was more than clear that Sansa was a taken woman.

Now they were on their final day, both of them eager to get home, but not taking their alone time for granted. Sandor knew their honeymoon had been worth it – for both of them.

Sansa had decided on the semi-private beach today instead of the pool at the villa and had carefully arranged their chairs, the overhead umbrella and towels, unpacking drinks for them and setting out a book she was reading. Sandor was content just to lie there, allowing the sun to deepen his tan.

"It's not fair," she said suddenly, putting her book down in frustration.

Sandor turned his head to look at her, seeing that lush bottom lip pouting. His dick, which an hour ago had been buried inside her heat as he'd fucked her on the kitchen table, rallied seeing her pout.

"What's not fair?"

She waved a hand at him. "You."

"Excuse me?" Sandor asked, not having a clue what she was getting at.

"You're all super tanned, and muscles and tattoos and everyone is ogling you. Even men!"

Sandor's mouth dropped open before he threw his head back and laughed. She had to be fucking kidding, right?

He'd seen three guys almost plow into a group of children as they scoped out her ass when she'd been bending over 'arranging' her towel to her specifications.

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not." She huffed out an impatient breath. "Those women over there won't stop looking at you!"

Sandor glanced over to see four women, maybe a bit older than Sansa, looking at them. Maybe they had been checking him out, but he hadn't even seen them standing there. He was too focused on his wife. His jealous wife.

Grinning, liking that his little bird was a bit jealous, he grabbed her hand and hauled her onto his massive body. She made a startled little sound before she spilt her legs and settled herself on him. Sandor knew this was playing with fire. His dick was hard, and Sansa's bikini bottoms left little to the imagination, but fuck if he wasn't turned on by her right now.

"Fuck, I'm so hard, Sansa, just staring at you, those perfect tits being held back by tiny scraps of fabric," he whispered into her ear.

She moaned and ground herself on him. She loved it when he talked dirty. This week had been incredible for them to physically explore their boundaries and become even more intimate with one another.

His wife liked his dirty mouth, some light edging and then a good hard fuck. She was incredible.

"Sandor," she whined, almost panting as his hands cupped her ass.

"Yeah? What does my baby want?"

They'd been here barely more than an hour, and Sandor could have them back in their villa within five minutes and buried back inside her heat in ten. She just had to say the word.

"You," she panted, nipping and sucking at him.

Sansa had discovered that Sandor liked a little bit of pain – her teeth, nails, a smack against his ass. It all added to the experience for him and was no longer shy about doling it out. She also took great pleasure in sinking to her knees whenever she felt like it, sucking him hard and then letting him suffer until he'd eventually just haul her over his shoulder, find some hard surface and sink inside her.

It had been amazing to be able to just have time with one another – to explore each other with no other demands on their time.

Now, Sansa was almost grinding herself on him, and Sandor was hard as granite.

"Little bird, I fucking love you. But I'm so fucking hard, and I need inside you. Can we just spend the day in the villa?" he finally asked when he found two brain cells that were working.

"Gods, yes!" she cried, clutching at him once more, before scrambling to pack up their things. Sandor didn't miss the triumphant smirk she shot the women, who were eyeing them with equal looks of jealousy and envy before she had her things in hand and was tugging him towards their villa.

She was too slow, was all he thought as he suddenly stopped and scooped her up into his arms. Sansa giggled and burrowed in closer to his chest, licking and nipping at him.

"Not fucking helping," he growled, making her laugh even more.

When they finally had some privacy, he wasted no time, taking her directly to their huge bed, where he plopped her down and then was on her. He had those tiny bottoms of her off and her bare within seconds. She was fucking soaked, and he moaned as he dove in, gathering her cream and sucking her down.

Gods, she tasted amazing. She moaned and bucked, but he gave her no quarter, ruthlessly working her until she screamed and came all over his face.

Finally, he shucked his clothes off, loving how Sansa just lay there panting. There was so much satisfaction in how much she loved this part of their relationship – especially when he thought about how shy and unsure she'd been when they’d first been together.

She saw him watching her and smirked, trailing a hand down her body, moaning and then dipping her fingers insider her body.

"Hurry husband," she purred, and Sandor's already hard cock leaped.

"Fuck yeah, I'm your husband," he said, coming back to the bed, prowling over her. He leaned down to kiss her, her essence still on his mouth and short beard, and she arched up to meet him.

"Wrap your legs around me," he instructed, loving it when she did so without hesitation. He surged inside her, the tightness of her body flexing to welcome him inside. He stilled when he hit her cervix and then slowly rolled his hips.

"More, please, baby," she begged as Sandor grinned and then started to retreat and thrust in a rhythm they knew so well by now.

"Gods, you take my breath away," he said, gazing down at her in wonder. She was so beautiful, so loving, so incredible, and he still had to pinch himself.

"I love you so much," she told him, their eyes locked. It never failed to drive him even higher when she said that to him, thursting into her again and again, loving how her body felt like it had been made for him.

"Sansa," he grunted, knowing he couldn't hold off for much longer.

"I'm close," she told him and ground herself on him, seeking that release again.

Needing to see her shatter again, he reached down to stroke her as she liked, knowing what would get her off. Within minutes she was screaming his name, tightening on him and milking his cock as he spilled his seed deep inside her. Exhausted, he rolled them, so she was cradled in his arms in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

"Best honeymoon ever," she told him, looking like a sleepy little kitten.

Sandor laughed, agreeing. It had been precisely what they needed, and tomorrow they would head home. To Boone and their dogs, their jobs, and home and family. Where they had found each other and fallen in love. To the place that called to Sandor as much as this woman did. To the North, as Mr. and Mrs. Clegane.

* * *

_ Early September  _ _ – _ _ Sansa _

_How had it been a year since she'd come home?_ Sansa wondered as she finished touching up her makeup. It was so insane to think about everything that had happened in that year.

She gave herself one last glance before she was satisfied. Then she shut off the light and went to find her son.

A year ago, she'd come home to the North, lost, slightly broken-hearted and worried sick about her mother.

Today?

She had a husband, a son, and a mother whose cancer was in remission. She found Boone in his room, playing with some toys.

Sansa knelt in front of Boone as she adjusted his little tie, he insisted upon wearing to the hearing today.

"Is it good, Mama? Daddy is wearing one as well," Boone said, and Sansa bit her lip to keep from crying. They had all been waiting for this day for what felt like forever but had really been only six weeks. Adoption day.

She smoothed the tie down and patted it. Her wedding ring flashed, and she had to rein her emotions in, knowing if Boone saw her crying he wouldn’t understand. 

"It looks, perfect baby. Come on, let's go find Daddy." He held her hand and smiled at her, and Sansa sent a little prayer of thanks to the universe that this boy was hers.

Sansa was wearing a blue designer wrap dress, low heels and had curled her hair to be long and loose. Their entire family was going to meet them at the courthouse, to be there the exact moment Boone became theirs. It spoke to the huge support network they had, and how much they were all loved.

Boone was holding her hand as they spotted Sandor waiting in the kitchen for them.

Sandor grinned and whistled when he saw them, himself wearing one of his favourite Tom Ford suits, and Boone cracked up with laughter, running to Sandor, who scooped him up.

"We match, Daddy!" he said happily.

Sansa brushed her lips across Sandor's. "Looking good, big guy." Because he was. And he was hers. Her handsome, protective, loving husband.

He smirked and the desire roared to life in Sansa, even though they’d made love a few hours ago. She could never get enough of this man.

Summer had been kind to Sandor. He was in excellent shape and mentally totally committed to his final season in the WHL. Sansa rested a hand against his impressive chest, still basking the glow that she was Mrs. Sansa Clegane and that the Hound belonged all to her. She was a very happily married woman.

"You look so good, little bird," Sandor whispered against her lips, as Boone made a gagging sound. Sandor plopped him on the ground and pulled Sansa closer.

"Look away, Boone, Mama needs some sugar," Sandor said with a laugh to Boone, who shook his head and went to get his shoes on.

"Nervous?" Sandor asked when Boone was out of earshot.

Sansa bit her lip. In her purse, she had a present for Sandor; she didn't know whether she should give it to him now, or later.

"No. I mean, maybe a bit. It's an open and shut case, and no one thinks we won't get him. But I want him to be ours," she said, and Sandor nodded.

"I hear you, babe."

They held onto each other for a few minutes, and then, holding hands went to find Boone.

"Wait! I need Hounddog!" Boone cried, just as Sansa got him into the SUV.

Sandor darted back into the house to grab Boone's wolf that went almost everywhere with him.

They entered the courtroom together, their family at their back, ready to support them, their lawyer assuring them that Boone would be theirs.

An hour later, Sansa squeezed Sandor's hand hard as the judge legally declared Boone theirs.

Starks, Marbrands and Cleganes cheered as Boone threw himself into their arms.

"I'm yours!" he cried happily.

Sansa was in no state to hold back the tears and sobbed as she clutched him to her. She ran her hands through his blond curls. So much was starting for him – grade two in school, a new hockey season, and now, a brand new last name. And soon, another role.

"You are. All ours, forever and ever."

He giggled and then glanced at Sandor. "I'm part of the pack, right?"

"Heck yeah, totally part of the pack!"

Boone smiled happily and crawled over to Sandor and clung to him. Sandor's eyes, all smoky and warm, met hers, and Sansa knew she was a blubbering mess. Eventually, Sandor handed Boone of to Ned, as they all made their way out of the courtroom and towards the exit.

"Sansa, are you ok?" Sandor asked, tugging her, so they were at the back of their large family.

"I'm just so happy," she said sniffling, unable to stop the tears.

Sandor smiled indulgently at her and nodded. "Yeah, me too, babe. But you're a faucet."

Suddenly unable to keep it from him anymore, she reached into her Birkin bag and pulled out the pregnancy test she'd taken this morning and handed it to Sandor.

His eyes went wide and impossibly round, and then she saw his lips wobble.

"Little bird, is this…?"

She hugged him hard and whispered in his ear. "We're pregnant, Sandor."

His huge arms crushed her to his chest, shaking and biting back the sob. She loved how big of a softie her guy was.

"Fuck, you’re sure?"

"Yeah, love, I am. I have about three more tests in my purse. I have to go to the doctor and confirm, but I'm pretty sure."

He swung her around and then kissed her hard while everyone turned to look at them as if to see what was taking so long.

They were lost in each other and knew they weren't fooling anyone. Neither one had hidden how much they wanted to start a family, and it was apparent that something monumental had just happened.

Sandor dropped to his knees then, right there in the courthouse and everyone knew, as the big man put his hands on Sansa's slim stomach.

"Hello, baby, I'm your Daddy."

Sansa couldn't help the tears, seeing how happy he was that she was pregnant.

When they finally caught up with everyone else, Sansa confirmed she was pregnant, while Sandor proudly announced, "I knocked her up."

Sansa rolled her eyes as Boone rushed towards them.

Sandor caught him and tickled his belly.

"Ready to be the best big brother in the entire world?"

His eyes went wide, and then he gave a happy clap! They had discussed at length with Boone how they wanted a big family, and how he would always be special and the oldest.

Sandor threw an arm around Sansa's shoulders, still carrying Boone as they all piled into vehicles to go back to Winterfell for a celebration.

Boone was now a Clegane, Sansa was pregnant, and the Wolves' season, Sandor's final season, started in a few weeks.

Sansa was so happy; she couldn't help the huge smile on her face for the rest of the day. Her life was everything she'd ever wanted it to be. And all because she'd fallen in love with Sandor, the Hound, Clegane.

* * *

_ October  _ _ – _ _ Sansa  _

The Wolves' season was underway when Sansa and Sandor went to their dating ultrasound, six weeks after being to her doctor and confirmed the pregnancy. She was guessing she was about ten weeks pregnant, and the morning sickness had been intense. Her doctor had told her that it was a good sign.

They'd made their appointment for after Sandor's morning practice, but before they would get Boone from school.

Both of them were excited to see their baby on the monitor and hear the heartbeat. It was only when the ultrasound tech paused, and then frowned, that Sansa began to worry.

"Is something wrong?" She was clutching at Sandor's hand.

"Umm, no, Mrs. Clegane. Not at all."

The woman smiled at her and then moved the wand. Sansa loved hearing people use her married name.

Mrs. Clegane.

But the tech was worrying her.

"Here is the baby's heartbeat," she said, turning up the sound so that the fast whooshing could be heard in the room. Sansa's lip trembled as she heard it for the first time, and even Sandor was sniffling.

"And here is the second baby's heartbeat."

Sansa stilled.

"What?"

The woman smiled.

"It appears you're pregnant with twins. Congratulations."

Sansa couldn't tear her eyes away from the monitor, the two heartbeats fluttering away.

"Both babies appear really healthy and good. I'll book your next appointment, but you're going to want to …"

There was a rush of air, and a thump as both Sansa and the tech turned to see Sandor Clegane sprawled out in a dead faint on the floor.

"Oh god, get someone!" Sansa cried, swinging her legs off the exam table.

By that time, Sandor was already coming back around and was hugely embarrassed by what happened, almost refusing to be checked out, until Sansa told him they weren't leaving until he'd had his head examined.

Sitting there waiting for the doctor, Sandor laid his hand gently on her stomach. "It's true then? Twins?"

Sansa grinned. "It is. Oh my god, I hope it's twin girls!"

Sandor paled. "Are you trying to kill me, little bird?"

She just smiled and patted his cheek. Two babies! Their family was growing, and they were blessed. Life could hardly get any better.

"You'll be fine, big guy. You’ll just have to learn to braid hair."

He guffed, but Sansa knew he'd be watching YouTube videos to learn. Girls, boys, one of each, it didn't matter to either one of them. She knew that. They just wanted a big family and were well on their way.

* * *

_ Two weeks later  _ _ – _ _ Sandor _

Sandor could hardly believe how tiny Dacey and Robb's son was. Or that Robb had just handed him his son, named William Eddard Stark like he thought Sandor somehow knew what the fuck he was doing. Why did Robb trust him with this tiny baby?

The baby peered up at him, his face all pink and squished and just blinked, his mouth opening and closing, but making no sounds.

_Thank fuck,_ Sandor thought, almost shaking with worry at what he'd do if the baby cried.

He knew he'd told Sansa he wanted a big family, but when he'd thought about it, it was always kids. Like Boone. That could go to the bathroom and tell him what hurt. Not babies. Sandor had no experience with babies.

This tiny human in his hands was totally helpless.

_Why wasn't Robb freaking out?_

Sandor looked up to see Robb cuddled next to Dacey on the bed, as Sansa hovered, her barely-there bump making Sandor smile. Robb looked totally chilled out, in love with his wife and so damn happy.

A tiny squawk had him looking down at the newborn in his hands as reality hit Sandor square in the face.

Sansa was pregnant with twins.

** _TWINS!_ **

There would be two tiny, helpless babies that they would be responsible for.

Not one.

TWO.

_Why the hell had he been so eager to get her pregnant? And why were his sperm so awesome?_

Just as he was about to go into full freak out mode, Sansa was there, easily scooping Liam from his hands and cooing to him, blowing him kisses and rocking him. The baby's face made some weird scrunched up look, but he didn't cry, so Sandor thought Sansa must know what she was doing. Thank fuck one of them did.

_And there were classes _ _–_ _ places where they taught you things about babies before they came_ _, right?_

"He's darling," Sansa tutted, her eyes going all gooey and warm at the baby snuggled in closer to her.

Thank fuck she was already pregnant because there was no way in hell she'd have wanted to wait after meeting her nephew.

When they finally left the new family, all snuggled together as Dacey started to breastfeed, _right there,_ Sandor felt like his world had been rocked.

"Ummmm, do you want to do that?"

"Hmmm?" she asked, clearly not focused on him, but Liam.

"Do you want to …." Sandor blushed and pointed to her boobs. Her impressive, glorious boobs.

She smirked at him. "Breastfeed?"

He nodded, not having the ability to speak. His mind was consumed with babies.

She smiled at him.

"Yeah, I do. I know it'll be a lot with two, but my mom produced a lot of milk with all of us. I'm hoping I can feed and pump so that eventually, I can have a bit of relief."

_Pumping. Feeding. Milk production. The spots danced before his eyes._

_Holy fuck, he was NOT ready for this!_

Thankfully, Sansa was there, and none of this seemed to phase her. She laughed at him and told him she knew what she was doing and then slipped her hand into his.

"Boone is going to love meeting Liam," she said, steering Sandor back onto solid ground.

His son. Who was almost seven. Thank fuck. Sandor knew what to do with a seven-year-old. Newborns? Not a clue.

"Yeah, babe, he is."

"Now we just have to decide on our birth plan, the theme of the nursery, and our nanny! I'm thinking maybe a home birth, in the pool, or hot tub," she said happily, sending another wave of nervousness through Sandor. And then horror at the thought of her giving birth at home. Surely she had to be joking, right?

Then he caught her little grin and spun her around in his arms, right there in the middle of the parking lot.

"You're messing with me," he growled into her ear.

She laughed. "Of course, I am. I want drugs. I was there with Dacey when she had Liam, and I have two to push out. Give me all the drugs, baby."

Sandor chuckled at her and then kissed her hard. "All the drugs in the world coming up."

He might not know what to do with a baby or two, but he had Sansa. And together, they'd figure it out.

* * *

_ December  _ _ – _ _ Sandor _

Sandor's knee was bouncing as they sat in the doctor's office for Sansa's checkup. He had two more games left before the winter break, and he'd never been more excited for Christmas than he was this year.

Boone was absolutely mad for Christmas, hardly able to contain himself when they'd first started decorating. He had been bouncing off the walls as Sansa had directed Sandor to haul out all her Christmas decorations. Even though Cat was feeling much better this year, it was agreed upon that they would do Christmas morning at their house, for Boone.

The entire month, between his games and Sansa's work commitments, they'd done all the traditional Christmas stuff with Boone, including making cookies, going and looking at lights, and attending his school Christmas concert.

Sansa, who was just into the second trimester of her pregnancy and now glowing with energy, had to be reined in when it came to buying Boone presents, but even Sandor found himself wanting to give his son everything, to make up for what he had lacked for so long.

They even took Boone to the mall, to sit on Santa's lap, and though shy at first, he'd eventually told the big guy what he wanted, almost unable to believe that he’d get presents this year. Sansa had been a mess when he’d told her Santa had never brought him anything before.

Now they just had to get through this checkup, and the final two games and Sandor would get some much needed time off with his family. The Wolves were in first place again this season, although some of the teams had made some trades that made them stronger. The Eyrie team was breathing down their neck in the standings, and Sandor felt the weight of defending this championship squarely on his shoulders.

"Hello," their doctor said, a pleasant smile on her face when she entered the room. She was an OBGYN and highly recommended at a private practice that guaranteed discretion. She also had an ultrasound machine in her office, so they got to see the babies every time they came for a checkup.

_BABIES. _ _Plural. Not one, but two._

There were still moments that Sandor could hardly believe Sansa was having twins. The guys on the hockey team had ribbed him about his 'super sperm,' but it hadn't bothered him. If it made him a caveman to delight in the fact that his wife was pregnant, Sandor didn't much care. Still, when faced with two newborns, Sandor still had some nerves about him.

Today they were doing another anatomy scan, and if they wanted, finding out the gender.

The doctor asked Sansa a bunch of questions, took her blood pressure and generally checked her health. Sansa, it seemed, was one of those women who adored being pregnant and took to it like a duck to water. When she hopped up on the bed for the ultrasound, Sandor hovered over her, holding her hand.

"Well, let's look at these precious bundles, shall we?" the doc said, a smile on her face.

Sansa's eyes were glued to the machine as the doctor added the gel and then pressed on the rise of her stomach. Being so slim and pregnant with twins, Sansa had already popped.

"So, I can give you some more information about the babies today, if you'd like, including gender," the doctor announced, after pointing out their arms and legs, their heartbeats. The babies appeared to be holding hands, which made Sandor sniff, as Sansa wiped away tears.

"We'd like to know everything you can share with us," Sansa answered.

She'd been adamant that she wanted to know the sex of the babies at the very least, to 'prepare.' Sandor hadn't argued with her at all. Having two babies was enough of a change that the last thing he needed was another surprise on delivery day.

"Well, first, you have identical twins because we can see that the babies share an inner sac with no dividing membrane."

Sandor almost felt weak.

IDENTICAL TWINS.

_Lord, help him. How would he tell them apart?_

"Oh, that's amazing," Sansa said, knowing it was much rarer than fraternal twins.

"And they are girls," the woman said, beaming at them.

Sandor felt his knees shake.

_GIRLS._

_He was having identical. Twin. Girls. _

Sansa's hand squeezed his hard as his breath came out in little pants.

"Hey, big guy, you with me?" Sansa asked softly. He gazed up into her eyes and then nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Yeah, I'm here."

The doctor and Sansa droned on about other things, dating and development, but his mind was racing, even as he helped Sansa into the SUV. She was carrying his daughters!

When he got into the driver's side, he just sat there for a moment, too stunned to say anything.

"What's on your mind?" Sansa finally asked.

He turned to her. "They're girls, Sansa."

She cocked her head, a smile dancing on her lips. "Yup. Two of them."

"Girls! Look at me. I'm a brute. A hockey player. And they're going to wanna have makeup and dolls and girl things. Princess things and tea parties. And boys, Sansa. There are going to be boys that want to date them!"

Sansa laughed and shook her head.

"Well, you seem to have hit the high points. And yes, they might want those things. They might want to do ballet and dance and gymnastics. And wear dresses and pretty things. Or," she said, giving him a look, "They might be like Arya. They might be little tomboys, who want to run around after Boone and play in the mud and collect insects. They might want to play hockey and wrestle and be one of the guys."

She shrugged. "We don't know what they will be like, Sandor, but they are ours."

She dragged her hand over her bump, and he finally felt himself settle.

"Fuck yeah, they're ours, little bird."

She smiled as he calmed himself and then got a bright look in her eyes. "Now, I have an idea for how we're going to tell the family."

He finally started the car, knowing he could do this. He had Sansa, and their family and people who had done this before. He vowed then and there to be the best damn father possible, to keep them safe and make sure they grew into kick-ass women, just like his wife.

* * *

_ Christmas  _ _ – _ _ Sansa _

Sansa was pleasantly exhausted as she felt Sandor tug her down onto his lap as they sat in one of the loveseats and watched Boone run his hands over some of the many, many toys he'd received this Christmas. As usual, Sandor had been right in that they didn't need to go overboard for him. Between his aunts, uncles, two sets of grandparents and one set of great-grandparents, their living room liked a toy store had puked all over it.

Sansa didn't mind much. She had always grown up in a family that never wanted for anything, so for her, this reminded her of her childhood, when Ned and Cat would spoil them, and Mini and Hoster would add to the already packed tree.

Sandor was a bit grumblier, but honestly, Sansa knew that there wasn't any stopping the Starks when it came to Boone, and the Marbrands had hardly been any better.

Now they had three last gifts to give.

"Is it time?" Sandor asked, his deep, rumbling voice in her ear doing wonderful things to Sansa's lady parts. Pregnancy had made her hornier than ever, and Sandor had been a more than willing recipient of her desires.

"Yes," she responded but wiggled on his lap.

"Behave, little bird, and I'll make you come so hard later, you'll see stars."

She could only moan as he laughed and then hauled her to her feet, reaching for the two wrapped presents they had kept back from the rest of them under the tree.

Dacey, Robb and Liam were all cuddled on another couch, while Bran and Ric were in the middle of the toys with Boone, helping him 'sort' them into piles of which ones he wanted to open first.

Arya and Gendry sat at a table, feeding the dogs scraps of bacon and waffles, while Ned, Cat, Brenda and Addam were seated closer to the fireplace.

Mini was in her chair that Sandor called the Queen's Chair, as it was elegant and refined, while Hoster snoozed on a lazy boy.

When Sandor stood, everyone looked towards him. He cleared his throat, so much more comfortable with her large family now, then he was last year.

"These are for you guys," he said, handing the two beautifully wrapped packages to each set of parents.

Everyone knew Sansa was having twins, but no one but them knew the gender.

"Boone, buddy, we have another present for you," Sansa called.

Despite his love of his toys, he eagerly ran to her and cuddled on her lap. He loved touching her stomach, and so far, jealousy had not reared its head when it came to the babies. She had a little gift bag for him.

"Alright, open them up," Sansa ordered, excitement and nerves waring inside her tummy.

Their parents were careful with the wrapping paper, going at the same speed, and Boone laughed at how slow they were.

"I just tore into my presents, Mama," he said, pressing closer to her. He made a little grrr sound as Sansa laughed. Boone had been stunned that Santa had remembered him this morning.

_Gods, she loved him,_ Sansa thought, as she watched her parents.

She saw when they got the plain brown boxes, looking puzzled until Cat and Brenda opened them.

Then both women gasped, and each held up a pair of tiny figure skates.

"Sansa?" Cat said at the same time Mama B looked to Sandor.

"Sandy? Does this mean…?"

"Girls. We're having identical twin girls," Sandor said, as Mama B let out a happy squeal and jumped to her feet.

"Oh my god, we're going to have granddaughter's, Cat!" she cried, throwing herself into Sandor's arms, who laughed and hugged her close.

Sansa met her mother's gaze, full of so much love. Sansa could only hope that she had as close of a relationship with her daughters as she did with her mother.

"Sansa, this is incredible," Cat said, wiping away tears. Ned and Cat were there, hugging her and congratulating them.

Robb was next, and she swung her around in his arms.

"Twin girls. That's fucking awesome," he said, grinning at Sandor.

Meanwhile, Addam had been quiet, until he finally rose and walked to Sandor, pulling him close. Since Sansa was right here, she heard Addam tell Sandor, "Daughters are a big responsibility, son. I know you're up for it. This is incredible."

Sansa felt the tears come as Boone tugged on her hand.

"Mama, can I open my present?"

"Yeah, baby, go for it."

It was a little t-shirt that had a big brother dinosaur with two identical girl dinosaurs with him and said, "Proud big brother to twin terrors."

Sandor had thought it was a hoot, and Sansa couldn't say no. Boone loved it and took off his pyjama top, matching the rest of the Starks and Cleganes and Marbrands of course, and put it on.

Later, when she was napping on the couch after the present debris had been cleaned up and most of them had gone outside to slid down the hill, her father came and took a seat by her.

"Hey Daddy," she said, loving how much closer they had become recently.

"Hey, lemon drop."

He shook his head, wonder in his eyes. "Twin girls, San."

She grinned. "I know."

"How is Sandor?"

Understanding dawned. "He's good, Dad. He was a bit freaked out at first, but I think he's come to terms with it."

Ned shook his head again. "A man never forgets when he's given a daughter to protect. I'm so proud of you, Sansa and this life you've built, this family you've chosen for yourself. He's a good man, our Sandor. He'll protect those girls with his entire being."

Sansa was teary again as she squeezed her father's hand. "He will. He's such an awesome father."

Ned rose and dropped a gentle kiss to Sansa's forehead. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Daddy."

Sandor was suddenly there, and she cuddled up into his arms, pleased to let others do the cooking, letting the magic of the season wash over her and the promise of the good things to come.

* * *

_ June  _ _ – Sandor _

Two and a half fucking minutes and the Cup would be theirs again.

Sandor tried to concentrate, but his mind and heart were in two places.

Earlier today, Sansa had been having contractions, and while she didn't think the babies were ready to come today, it was close. She'd stayed home with Cat and Bran in case something happened, and she needed to go to the hospital.

Sandor had already told Ned that should she phone, he was fucking gone. He didn't care about another cup when his wife was in fucking labour.

"Focus, son," Ned said, suddenly there on the bench, leaning down to talk to Sandor.

"Any word?"

Ned shook his head.

"Cat said it's all good. Sansa is doing her job, keeping your daughters safe and healthy. Enjoy these last few minutes of your career."

Sandor nodded. They hadn't told a soul, beyond his parents and Sansa's, that this was his last season. He planned to announce it at the end of their playoff run and knew his teammates would be shocked, but they'd understand. He knew he'd made the right call the entire season. He loved the game – it had given him so much. But his time was done. He wanted to be home with Sansa, Boone and their girls.

Five minutes later, the final buzzer went, and the Wolves' repeated as Stanley Cup champions.

The team piled onto the ice and mobbed him and Tormund, who was howling like a mad man. He'd finally gotten Brienne to agree to marry him, and they were planning to do so on Tarth, this summer.

The celebrations began as Ned thrust a phone into Sandor's hand, Sansa there.

"Hi, baby! Way to go," she said, happy for him. Still, he could see she was in pain.

"Sansa, how are you feeling?"

She waved a hand. "I'm good."

Sandor already knew that this celebration would be nothing like last year. The minute he could, he'd be racing back to their house to be by her side.

He was surprised when he was named MVP of the playoffs, thinking that Ric had a shot at it. But apparently, his record-breaking season continued, and he thanked the Commissioner.

Hoisting the Cup for the third time, Sandor drank it in. He was going out a champion.

Later, in his post-game interview, as he held Boone in his arms, he announced his retirement, thanking the league, the fans, the Lions and finally, the Wolves' for all the support during his incredible career.

"Daddy, you're gonna be home more now?"

Sandor's grin was all the answer anyone needed.

“You bet, buddy.”

The Hound was happy and was going out on top.

His teammates had quieted when they realized what was happening, and then he was mobbed again.

Finally, near midnight, he packed an exhausted Boone into the SUV and drove home, away from Wintertown Arena for the last time at the Wolves' Captain. It was a bittersweet feeling that was gone the moment he got home and found Sansa, grumpy and trying to get comfortable on their bed.

This was now his life and he couldn’t be happier.

"These children of yours better come soon, Sandor, or else,” she threatened, clearly miserable.

He grinned. She was fucking huge, and he loved it.

Hockey was done, for now, and his entire focus was on his family. He settled against their back of the bed and opened his arms. Almost the only place she could get comfortable was leaning against him. He rested his hand on her tummy, as the girls moved, knowing their Daddy was home.

"I'm here, baby. I'm always going to be here,” he told her.

She titled her head up for a kiss and to check that he was alright. Gods, the way she loved him still humbled him.

"How was it, leaving the rink for the last time as a player?"

Sandor shrugged. "Amazing and hard. I think your Dad is going to make Robb Captain, which is good. He's ready for it."

Sansa nodded and then moaned, as another contraction hit her.

Sandor frowned. "What did the doc say?"

She'd gone to the hospital earlier today, but they'd sent her home, saying she was just getting started.

"Nothing too serious yet."

Then she snuggled deeper into his arms, and Sandor revelled at the moment with his wife in his arms, excited for the next chapter of his life to begin.

* * *

Thirty hours after winning his third Stanley Cup, Sandor was staring down at two matching sets of bright blue eyes as Sansa recovered on the bed in their private birthing suite.

His daughters had come into the world, fast, furious and loud. Sansa hadn't even gotten the drugs she'd been promised, as the Clegane twins refused to wait any longer to meet their parents.

Sandor had endured many painful things in his life, but watching his wife battle to birth his children humbled him in a way he knew he wouldn't get over any time soon. She had been incredible, and Sandor was in total awe of her.

Now she was dozing, after both girls had been fed, checked, measured and cleaned, and he was alone with his daughters for the first time. Well, not alone. Sansa was there. But she was sleeping. 

"Hello girls, I'm your Daddy," he whispered as they stared up to him, almost owlishly. They smacked their lips and were still holding hands, more content when they were touching than apart.

"You sure made an entrance. Your Mama wanted the drugs, but you two impatient little things wouldn't have any of that," he said, still talking to them.

He heard Sansa's chuckle.

His parents had Boone, who was eager to meet his sisters but had to wait until morning. Sandor knew it was a few hours away, and then the family would descend, but for now, it was just him and Sansa and their girls.

He rose, carefully, and somehow arranged himself on the bed with her so they could look at them together.

"They're so tiny," Sansa said, awe in her voice.

"Yeah, they are."

Sandor could hardly believe how small they were, although they had been a good size for twins, at five pounds each.

"So we agreed on the names?" she asked.

Sandor nodded. "Yeah, babe."

"Hello Stella Elizabeth Clegane," Sansa said to the baby that had been born first. She had a fingernail painted pink, so they knew who she was.

"And hello Layla Ella Clegane," Sandor rumbled out, voice thick. They'd given the girls the middle names of his mother and his sister, at Sansa's suggestion.

"Stella and Layla, welcome to our family," Sansa said, beaming at her daughters, with their bright red hair.

It was clear who they took after. _T__hank god,_ Sandor thought.

A few hours later, there was a soft knock on the door. A nurse had been by, to help Sansa breastfeed both girls, and they'd been changed. Now, Mama B, Addam, Cat, Ned and Boone were here to meet them for the first time.

"Come in," Sandor said, watching as Boone pushed to the front of the adults.

"Daddy, are my sisters here?"

Sandor nodded and held out his hand as Boone rushed over to the bed, and Sandor scooped him up in his arms.

"There they are, Stella and Layla," Sandor said, as Boone gasped.

"Mama, they're so tiny!"

Sansa laughed and patted the spot beside her on the bed. Sandor placed Boone there and watched as the four of them all bonded, feeling Ned and Addam clap him on the back.

"Well done, son," one of them said. Sandor wasn't sure who, since he was all emotional and choked up, but it didn't matter. Cat and Mama B were there, fluttering around Sansa and the girls and Boone, and Sandor just drank the moment in. Their daughters' were here, safe. Sansa had been a warrior. Their family had expanded and everyone was healthy.

And now Sandor's job really began – to protect them from anyone who might hurt them and raise them to be good people. Thankfully they had an entire village to help them do it.

Sansa glanced over, saw him and smiled. And Sandor's heart was filled to bursting with how much love he had for his family, and how lucky he'd been when he'd been traded to the Wolves' hockey team all those many, many months ago. Everything he’d ever wanted was right here in this room, and he’d never take a single day for granted, knowing he’d been blessed with a life he’s almost dreamed of, but never could imagine would be his.

He leaned down and kissed Sansa on the forehead.

“Love you little bird.”

She beamed at him. “Love you big guy.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next
> 
> The real finale of this tale! We take a glimpse into the future of our couple and the wonderful life they built together.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Here we are!
> 
> A few thanks yous!
> 
> First, to the Sansan community for welcoming me and being awesome. I hope I did this pairing justice. And I hope you'll welcome me back at some point to write another story with these two!
> 
> Second to everyone who reads my stories, comments, kudos. Thank you so much. It means more than you will ever know.
> 
> The world was a VERY different place when I started this story. And as such, this one turned out happy, fluffy and fun. Perhaps these were the best versions of many of these characters. I loved the strong Stark bond, the family, the LOVE this story had to share. 
> 
> As always, enjoy. Stay safe, and stay healthy. 
> 
> All my best,
> 
> T

* * *

_ Christmas  _ _ – _ _ Sandor  _

_Boone is 16_

_Stella and Layla are 9_

_Alexander is 7_

_Beckett is 5 _

Sandor watched as his eldest son skated effortlessly around his younger siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents and friends. The annual Stark family Christmas Eve skate was a tradition that none of the Clegane children ever missed or complained about attending and had only grown more popular over the years, with people like Jon and Wyn, Brienne and Tormund and Jeyne and Bronn attending.

Point in fact, his kids loved coming to Winterfell to see their Nana Cat and Papa Ned, just as much as they enjoyed going to Nana B's house and Papa Addam's house. The Clegane kids adored their large family and the huge amount of friends that Sansa and Sandor had.

Boone, now sixteen and playing junior hockey in Wintertown, was an incredible skater. He'd more than lived up to that early potential Sandor had seen a decade ago, and Sandor knew his son was slated to go first overall in the WHL draft when it was his year.

Thank fuck that was still two years away. Sandor and Sansa were loath to lose him, should he be drafted by a team that was not the Wolves'. There was more than one night that Sandor held a worried Sansa as she fretted about her boy leaving them. Sandor knew that sometimes, little birds needed to leave the nest, but even he felt a twinge around his heart, should Boone be drafted by a team like Dorne or Oldtown. Those cities were so far away, and so far from Boone’s family and friends.

Sandor was now Ned's assistant coach for the Wintertown Wolves, his father in law stating he had maybe one or two years left before he retired for good. Ned wanted to spend time with Cat and their growing brood of grandchildren.

Robb seemed to think it a competition with Sansa and Sandor as to who could give them the most grandkids and was up to four with Dacey. His wife had finally made him go and get snipped, with three rambunctious boys and one sweet daughter in their house. Liam was a year older than Layla and Stella, and at ten, he loved hockey as much as his father, grandfather and uncles.

Robb's next two boys were as much into sports as Liam, with Levi playing baseball in the summer and swimming in the winter, and Lynden being as avid a hockey player as his older brother. Their daughter, only four, was sweet and silly, loved her dolls and dressing in all things frilly and girly, and had her Daddy wrapped around her little finger.

Sandor got it. Daughters just did something to a man.

As predicted, at nine, Layla was every inch a mini Sansa, adoring make-up, clothes, tea parties and princesses. Sandor had spent more than one afternoon on aching knees, playing house with her.

On the other hand, Stella looked just like her sister but could have come from Arya's womb she was so like her aunt. She did everything in her power to keep up with Boone and Liam, including playing hockey and roughhousing with the boys whenever she could.

Sandor was damn proud of her, and how independent and fierce she was.

Their other two children, Alexander, seven, and Beckett, five, loved hockey as much as Stella, and so the Clegane's spent many, many hours in the rinks around the North.

It was a love affair that Sandor didn't see ending anytime soon, especially since Arya's son, now three, was already zipping around the ice, and her next was safely tucked in her tummy. She and Gendry had snuck off to Essos to get married a few years ago, telling no one for months, until she'd announced her pregnancy.

Lost in his musings, Sandor almost missed Boone, who skated to a neat stop beside him, as they watched Stella yell at Liam for stealing the puck.

"Pretty fucking wild, huh," Boone said, grinning and then giving Sandor a look.

"What's that?"

Sandor loved having this time with his son, over Christmas, when they could just spend hours messing around on the Stark rink.

Boone jerked his chin towards all the kids, along with Robb, Ric, Gendry, Bran, Jon, Tormund, Bronn, Ned and Addam - the whole crew that was out there.

"That this is my life. I mean, come on Dad, I was basically living in a dark hole when you and Mom rescued me."

Sandor grunted, hating thinking of what Boone had been through before he'd come into their lives. He didn’t often bring it up, but it was always there. Sandor got that. His past was part of who he was – he’d come to terms with it, and the abuse he’d suffered, but it never disappeared entirely.

"Yeah."

Sandor paused and looked at Boone. He was a good looking kid – blonde hair, blue eyes and handsome as could be. Sansa fretted that he'd get distracted by girls, but he had a good head on his shoulders. Not only was he a great athlete, but he was also amazingly smart. If he wanted, he could go to university and pursue any degree he wanted. In the Clegane house, academics came first, sports second. And no one messed with Sansa on that.

"We did the right thing, right? Adopting you? Making you a Clegane?" Sandor asked suddenly, needing to know. Or at least hear Boone say it.

His son looked startled and then shook his head. "Dad, are you kidding me? It was the best day of my life. Well, one of them. There have been a few."

Both remembered when the twins came – Boone had never been jealous of them, instead of doting on them and being incredibly gentle and helpful with his sisters. Boone was old enough to remember their wedding, and his first Christmas, and the dogs. There were many good memories for his son.

"I love you so much," Sandor said, somewhat gruffly. "You need to know that you're ours, Boone. Just because …"

His son stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Dad. I know. I know I'm a Clegane. All the way."

Sandor was lost for words, his throat thick. Fucking hells, he loved this kid so damn much.

They heard Addam scold Stella, who was mad that Ric has stolen the puck from her again, and then laugh as her Papa picked her up and zoomed her down the ice, making her laugh, and chasing the scowl from her face. She was so damn competitive, that Sandor wondered if Ric secretly encouraged it. She was just like him when she was on the ice.

"I hit the lottery," Boone said quietly. “With this family. I mean, you hear stories, right, of foster kids, getting good homes. But this?” Boone gestured around and both of them looked to Winterfell. It still looked like a fucking castle to Sandor, and he’d been coming here for a decade.

"Fuck, I know what that feels like," Sandor said quietly. You never really forgot where you came from.

"Yeah. You never say much about it."

Sandor swallowed hard. He didn't hide his past from his kids, but he'd never really opened up to them about it. But Boone wasn’t little anymore, and their pasts were more similar than anyone else here. He could hear the interest in his son’s voice.

"It was bad where I grew up. My father, my brother – they were mean. Violent."

Boone was fascinated and stood transfixed.

"My brother did this to my face; you know that," Sandor continued, knowing Boone needed to hear this. "My father, he smacked me around. But Gregor was the worst. When he got into a rage …” Sandor shook his head, still able to feel the pain his brother could inflict upon him, even years later.

"How did you get out?" Boone asked.

Sandor looked at him and spoke.

"After another beating, another day of being hungry, another day when I just knew if I stayed, I'd die, I ran away. I was twelve and had nothing. I was at a hockey tournament in Ashmark, a few towns over from my home. I just snuck away, and no one noticed I was missing. That's where your Papa found me. Took one look at me and took me home."

"Wow," Boone said, shaking his head. "I'm so glad they found you."

Sandor shook his head. "So am I."

They saw Sansa step onto the ice and heard Ric groan.

"Fuck no, San. I'm not doing this with you again."

He actually pouted and banged his stick on the ice. Sandor shook his head. How did Ric not know that only got her going more?

She twirled and laughed and then grabbed a hockey stick. "Oh baby bro, you haven't beat me yet."

"Sansa, this is ridiculous. I was the league MVP last year. You can't do this! And I’m not a baby!" he whined, as she expertly stickhandled and skated backwards.

Layla had taken to figure skating like her mother, and Sandor knew that she had real potential if his daughter wanted to go all the way. But somehow, Sandor knew she wouldn’t and that was just fine with him.

Boone laughed at Ric's pouty face. "Uncle Ric really hates when Mom does that, huh?"

Sandos shrugged, grinning at his wife. She still had it.

"The rookie needs to be schooled."

Boone shook his head. "Dad, he's hardly a rookie anymore." Ric was an amazing hockey player, and someone Boone looked up to.

Sandor snorted. "Son, that kid will always be a rookie to me."

"Sandor, Boone, let's go!" Sansa called sweetly, and the two of them shared one last look. When Sansa spoke, everyone in the Clegane house listened.

"Thanks for choosing me," Boone said quietly, so only Sandor could hear.

Sandor swallowed around the lump in this throat. "Thanks for choosing us back."

Then the two Cleganes were swarmed by their family, ready to play the annual Stark family game of shinny, and celebrate another Christmas in the North.

* * *

_ Fall  _ _ – _ _ Sandor  _ _ and Sansa _

_Boone is 20 _

_Stella and Layla are 13 _

_Alexander is 11_

_Beckett is 9 _

"No. Absolutely not. I forbid it," Sandor said, a growl to his voice as his stomach clenched.

Layla was standing there, arms crossed and pouting, looking far too old to be thirteen and headed off to high school. The fact that she had on lip gloss and blush had been the final straw. Sandor saw no reason his daughter should wear make-up.

Stella, who was in track pants and an old t-shirt, was just eating cereal and smirking at them.

"Dad, it's MOM's make-up. Who do you think showed me how to put it on?"

Sandor groaned and reached for his phone. Sansa was in King's Landing for meetings, but he knew she'd take his call.

Sure enough, within moments, her pretty but now worried face filled his phone.

"Sandor? What's wrong?"

"Did you tell Layla she could wear make-up? To SCHOOL?" Sandor added, glaring at Sansa.

She arched an elegant eyebrow, and he knew he'd overstepped. But it was just so hard. These were his babies – his girls. And now Layla was wearing make-up and dressing up and becoming interested in boys. And it was all too much.

Sandor still remembered the little girl who went around in tutus and leggings and little Ugg boots and who always wanted to be by his side. As much as Layla was a mini-Sansa, she was Daddy's girl.

Now he felt like he was losing her.

"Mom, Dad's being totally unreasonable," Layla said, her tone just like Sansa's.

Sandor growled and looked at Sansa.

"Little bird, did you tell her she could wear this stuff?" Sandor held up a tube of glossy pink lip stuff with the name MiSa on it. At least Layla had good taste.

Sansa's company had exceeded all expectations in the past fourteen years. With Sandor home full time after retiring from hockey, she'd been able to throw herself into work, finding a balance that was acceptable to both of them.

Sandor still remembered when she'd told him some make-up brands made hundreds of millions of dollars – and that was where Sansa now was. She was the third wealthiest woman in Westeros, and she wasn't even forty, just two years shy of that milestone.

_God he had a hot wife,_ Sandor thought, momentarily distracted by her.

She had five children, a loving husband, a huge network of friends and a supportive and caring family. She still couldn't cook to save her soul, a fact that everyone teased her about, and despite her incredible success, was the same down to earth woman Sandor had fallen in love with a decade ago.

Each day he loved his wife more, and their life was amazing.

Boone had been drafted first overall into the WHL. Thankfully, he'd gone to the team in White Harbor, so he was still in the North. They'd been so proud of him, but it had almost killed them when he left. Sansa had been a wreck for days, and she still grumbled about their first child living 'so far away.' Boone indulged his mother, face-timing her and sending her text messages all the time.

With her business booming and Sandor now the head coach of the Wolves' they had a few nannies they relied on for help, as well as Cat and Brenda. It took a village and they used theirs all the time. Their kids were well adjusted and not too spoiled, and somehow, with the support they had, they made it all work.

Still, on days like this, important days, days like the first day of school, Sandor or Sansa always made a point of being home with the kids.

Sandor had not expected to have the make-up debate today with his daughter.

"Sandor, can we talk in private?" Sansa asked, perfectly reasonable.

Layla looked happy as if she knew what her Mom was going to say. Sandor had a pretty good idea as well.

He walked towards her study. No matter how much money she made, Sansa had refused to buy a different house. She loved their home and said it was where they'd built their family and there was no reason to leave. Secretly, Sandor was glad that they were still here. He loved his house and it was plenty big enough.

They did all the big events at Winterfell now, since it was the only place that could accommodate their growing family, including all the grandkids.

"Alright, LB, I'm alone. Hit me with it," he said, almost glumly.

She shot him a look of sympathy and gentled her voice.

"Baby, they're growing up. I've spoken with Lay, and she knows what she is and isn't allowed to wear. No eyeshadow or lipstick, no heavy eyeliner and no contouring. But a little blush and some mascara? That's fine."

Sandor pouted. "Fine. But I don't have to like it."

Sansa smiled softly at him. "No, I get it. It feels like it's all going so fast. They are in highschool. And I'm not even there!"

He saw her eyes fill with tears and felt like an ass.

"I'm missing things, Sandor. For what? I don't need any more money. We don't need any more money."

Feeling like a right dick now, Sandor wished he could hold her.

"I know, babe. I do. The boys are getting bigger, and Lay and Stel are just … fuck, San, they're growing up."

She sniffed again. "Take lots of pictures, ok?"

He promised he would.

"I'm flying home tonight," she said, and he knew that was a change in her plans. She was scheduled to be in King’s Landing all week.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I need my family."

"Sorry I overreacted," he said, and she giggled, and he was happy he'd made her smile.

When they hung up, he went to find Layla. They'd offered the girls their own rooms, as they were as different as night and day, even though they looked the same. But both of them had insisted on sharing – even now at thirteen. That had made Sandor happy. Family was everything in this house, and he loved how close his twins were. 

Sandor knocked on the door and entered when Layla called him in. He took a seat on her bed and sighed, looking at her.

"Did Mom set you straight?" she said, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. She reminded him so much of Sansa, and he missed his wife.

Sandor nodded. "She did."

Then he gave her a look.

"You just have to understand that when I look at you, I see my little girl. It's my job to keep you safe. To protect you. To help you make the right decisions. I love you guys, so much."

He saw her lip wobble, and then she threw herself into his arms, sobbing.

"Daddy, I know. I love you, as well. And it's just a little make-up. Mama taught me how to do it, so it looks nice, not trashy."

Sandor almost groaned at her using that word, but at least she didn’t want to look like that.

The door opened, and Stella was suddenly there, looking like a kid and wanting in on the love. Sandor opened his arms wider, so both his girls could hug him. God, he’d known this day would come, from that first time he’d heard about twin girls. It was just hard to believe it was here already.

"I know. And we trust you girls. I trust you, girls. You just have to know that when I look at the two of you, I still see two redhead hellions running around in tutus and Uggs," he told them.

They both gave him a watery laugh.

"We love you, Dad. So much. And we love how much you care."

It was no secret that so many of their friends had parents that were no longer together, while Sansa and Sandor were still madly in love. On more than one occasion, the girls had told them that it made them happy, how much their parents still cared for one another. In terms of married couples, Sandor knew that he and Sansa were the gold standard. And that their kids loved it.

A few minutes later, Sandor took the obligatory first day of school photos and uploaded them to the family cloud so that everyone could see, while also sending them to Sansa. He felt for her, that she was missing this, and hoped she didn't do anything rash or sudden. She was an incredible mother, and her success had proven that women could have it all – husband, family and a fabulous career.

That night, when all four kids were home, gathered around the massive island while Sandor prepped dinner, talking about their first days at school, they heard the front door open. Sandor hadn't mentioned that Sansa was coming home early so their eyes widened, and they all screamed with delight that she was there.

Their kids adored Sansa and missed her like hell when she was gone.

She hugged then and kissed them, asked them about their days, and gave them each the attention they needed before she finally made her way to him.

"Hey, big guy," she said, tilting her head for a kiss.

Sandor willingly indulged, hauling her against his frame. In the fourteen years since he'd stopped playing hockey, he'd put on a few pounds, but by and large, his physic was still impressive. Sansa moaned against him, and their kids all made puking noises, but it didn't stop him from kissing her hard in front of them. This was what loved looked like, and all the kids were happiest when both their parents were home.

Later that night, after an impromptu family movie night, where they'd called Boone and talked with him as well, Sansa slipped into the bed wearing a very flimsy negligee and a gleam in her eyes. _What was his wife up to?_

Sandor felt her cuddle close to him, her hands on his chest. He'd added several more tattoos over the years and she loved to touch them, lick them, trace them with her hands.

Their wedding date.

Boone's adoption date.

Each of their kid's birthdays.

Footprints of their kids.

Pawprints of Sweetie and Harley.

He was forty-six and had a great family, a loving wife, and a very successful career at a hockey coach in the WHL. But something told him that Sansa was going to rock his world all over again.

"What's up, little bird?"

She was stalling, tracing his tats when he stilled her hands.

"Sansa?"

"I'm pregnant," she exclaimed suddenly, and then blushed and looked away.

Sandor stilled.

_Holy fuck. She was pregnant? _

They hadn't talked about another baby in years – they had such a big family, and neither one of them was young. But the thought of another baby in their house filled Sandor with so much happiness that he let out a whoop of joy.

Her eyes widened, and then the tears came.

"You're not mad?"

He hauled her against him. "Gods no. Why would I be mad?"

She sniffed. "Because we're old, and we gave all our baby stuff to Bran and Jojen when they adopted their daughter, and we have kids that are real people, and Beck is almost 10!"

Sandor laughed and kissed her, soft and gentle, laying a hand against her tummy.

"We're gonna have a baby, Sansa," he said, awe in his voice. It always felt like this. Her hands joined his.

"Yeah, big guy. One more baby for this crazy house."

"I fucking love you so much," he muttered, pressing soft kisses to her stomach and talking to the baby, as he always did, so they'd know him.

One more baby. One more member of the Stark-Clegane pack.

_Hell yeah,_ Sandor thought, so excited about another child in their home.

He made love to his wife reverently that night, making her peak again and again until she sobbed for him to come finally. Afterwards, he held her close and wondered how a screw up like him ended up with a lifelike his – one that was so amazing he could hardly believe it was his.

* * *

_ Christmas  _ _ – _ _ Sansa _

_Boone is 28_

_Roc is 27_

_Stella and Layla are 21 _

_Alexander is 19 _

_Beckett is 17 _

_Ava is 7 _

"She's too young," Sandor complained for what felt like the millionth time. Sansa just rolled her eyes at her husband, who was not taking this idea of their children growing up very well at all.

"Sandor, she's twenty-one, and they are in love."

Sure it had been a whirlwind romance between Roc and Layla. They'd only been dating six months, but they'd fallen in love, and their daughter, the perfect mix of stubborn, sweet, sassy and smart, knew what she wanted. And what she wanted was Roc Drogo.

While Layla and Roc had known each other their entire lives, they’d connected at the twins' twenty-first birthday party and had been inseparable ever since. Sansa and Sandor both knew Roc was a good guy – he was still best friends with Boone, and the two played on the same hockey team, the Wolves', of which Sandor was the coach.

Roc’s adoration of Sandor over the years had never dimmed and the two men were close. Really, really close. In fact, even when things had started between Layla and Roc, he’d refused to do anything until they’d spoken with Sandor first.

Sansa knew that had taken guts by Roc, to come to them, to come to Sandor, and tell him how he felt about his idol’s daughter.

Sansa's only concern with the marriage, had been that Layla did not quit school. Her daughter had been horrified at the idea. She had plans to take over MiSa one day and was determined to earn her Master's degrees like Sansa.

"Mom, I love him. I want to be married. But I don't even want kids for a few years. Like … sometime in the future. Far in the future.”

That had settled things for Sansa, and she'd helped Layla plan a perfect Christmas wedding.

Logically, Sandor knew ALL of this.

Emotionally? He was struggling.

"And that wildling's kid. He likes Stella," Sandor grumbled, fixing his cuff links.

Sansa barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Tormund and Brienne's son, the same age as Stella, was a boy they'd known their entire lives and was also a very good and upstanding young man. If Stella liked him, then good for Stella. Lord knew it hadn't been easy for the girls to date with Sandor as their dad. The man had scared the life out of almost anyone who dared to work up the courage to ask out a daughter of the Hound.

Sandor took great pride in scaring away anyone who even looked at his daughters.

Until Roc had dug in, stepped up and handled things incredibly well, fighting for Layla while still respecting Sandor.

Sansa batted his hands away to do the cuff links herself and then kissed his neck.

"Yes, baby, our daughters are grown women. They have full, rich lives, with interesting men, and fun stories they like to share with their mother when we have girls night and drink too many martinis and talk about men."

He glared at her. "Not helping, little bird. I do not need to know this.”

Sansa snorted. Her daughters were smart, beautiful women and she was so proud of them.

"And just think one day, they are going to be pregnant. And then you're going to be Papa Sandor."

She saw those grey eyes soften as he tugged her close. So many years together and the heat was still there between them. Twenty-two years and Sansa loved this man more and more each day. He'd given her everything in this life – his heart, his support, his charm, his body. He was her best friend, her lover, her confidant. He was her great love, and now, their children were finding their own way in the world.

"At least Boone has his head on straight," Sandor muttered.

Sansa laughed. Boone had taken after his Uncle Robb and enjoyed being unattached. A little too much if you asked Sansa.

Roc had always been different. He'd hardly dated at all and had been so steadfast in his career, not quite as naturally gifted as Boone and having to work harder. In many ways, Roc reminded her so much of Sandor, and she understood why Layla had fallen so hard and so fast for him. Roc was so solid, so good, so dependable. And he loved Layla, with every single cell in his body.

"Sandor, you know, Roc. He's a good man. He loves Layla."

Sandor rested his head against hers. "I know, San. I do."

Sandor took another deep breath.

"It's just, knowing he's a good guy and then handing my daughter over to him, well, that's two different things."

"I know, baby. I do." Sansa kissed him again and then helped him with his jacket. "But Roc is like you, the way he loves her. I know you see that."

"I do," Sandor finally acknowledged.

Sansa cupped Sandor's face, stroking his cheek. She barely even noticed the scarring anymore.

"Our girl is waiting for us. Let's not let her down, alright?"

Sandor nodded and slipped his hand into hers. They found Layla waiting in the room at Winterfell, where Sansa had gotten ready for her wedding all those years ago. Sansa felt the tears escape as she took in the vision that was Layla Clegane, ready to be married to the man of her dreams.

"Hi guys," she said, lip wobbling. Sansa watched as Sandor pulled himself together – for Layla.

"Hi baby," he said and then she threw herself into their arms as they hugged her tight.

"I'm so happy, and I love him, and he's such a good guy," she said as if she still needed to convince them.

Sansa met Sandor's eyes as they held Layla.

"We know," Sandor said and then straightened her up, holding out his arm. "Let's go get your married."

Layla's beaming smile told Sansa everything.

"Thanks, Daddy. Thanks Mama."

That was all that needed to be said, as Sandor and Sansa walked her towards her future, knowing that they'd raised their daughter right and that the man she'd chosen would love her with his entire heart.

* * *

_ Spring  _ _ – _ _ Sansa _

_Sandor is 66_

_Sansa is 58_

_Boone is 40 _

_Stella and Layla are 33 _

_Alexander is 31_

_Beckett is 29 _

_Ava is 19 _

Shockingly it wasn't Layla and Roc that gave them their first grandchild, but Boone, who'd met and fallen in love with one of their friends at Layla's and Roc's wedding. Within a year, Boone had married her and had given them their first grandchild, a little boy.

Next had been Stella, who'd met a photographer (not Tormund’s son), fallen in love, married and had three girls all within a few years of Layla and Roc's wedding.

Surprisingly Layla and Roc had waited five years to have their first child, with Layla being focused on her career and Roc still committed to playing hockey. Once Roc had retired, at thirty-two, they'd been ready to be parents.

It was no surprise that Roc and Sandor were still extremely close, with Roc taking on an assistant coaching job with the Wolves, while Layla managed MiSa.

By the time Sansa and Sandor were in their thirty-fourth year of marriage, they had eleven grandchildren. Beckett, their youngest son and his wife were just getting started, while Ava, their youngest child, was just nineteen and was barely dating. So Sansa knew there would be more, which she was excited about.

Much to their delight, all their kids had settled in the North. Sansa and Sandor had never left their house, only updating it every decade or so.

Dacey, Robb and their four children had moved into Winterfell when the upkeep and maintenance had become too much for Ned and Cat on their own. Shockingly, Sansa's parents and Sandor's were still with them, well into their eighties but holding strong. Addam and Brenda now lived at Winterfell as well, the four of them being the very best friends.

With all their children and grandchildren in the North, Sansa and Sandor did more than their fair share of babysitting. While Sansa still maintained a minor role in her company, she'd long ago handed the day to day running over to Layla, who loved MiSa as much as Sansa.

That left Sansa plenty of time for her grandchildren, whom she loved to spoil.

She especially loved when Stella's three daughters and Layla's daughter all visited together, spending countless hours with the girls, having tea parties and playing barbies, dressing up and doing hair. All four girls had Sansa's brilliant red hair and bright blue eyes. And all four loved to drive their Papa Sandor mad by disappearing on him.

That was how Sansa found herself rushing through her home while Sandor bellowed for her.

"SANSA! I've lost them! AGAIN!"

She snickered at the sound of both panic and annoyance in his tone. His bark had always been worse than his bite, and Sandor had taken to being a father like a duck to water. Their children had thrived under his care and supervision in those early years when she was so involved with getting the business up and running.

She found him in the backyard, scowling as he tried to find them. She heard the rustling before he did and looked up to see the four little red-headed girls in the tree.

"Oh well, I guess they'll miss this new make-up shipment I just received," she said, pressing herself close to Sandor. She heard the giggles and then a branch creek.

"They're up the tree, darling," she whispered in his ear.

He went to look, but she grabbed his face and kissed him instead. The passion was still there, even all these years later. She had married well, to a man that had given her everything her heart desired.

"They're kissing again!" one of them whispered.

"Mama and Daddy do that too."

"It's gross."

"I think it's sweet."

Sansa smiled against Sandor's lips and grabbed his hand.

"Come on, big guy. I'm sure I have some baking in the kitchen somewhere," Sansa said. "And I'm just about to make a fresh pot of tea. Perhaps I can find some cake as well."

There were a few thumps and then some banging as the four girls scrambled out of the tree, eager to be with their grandparents.

Sandor scowled at them, as the littlest, Layla's all but threw herself into Sandor's arms. While Sansa knew he loved all his children and grandchildren, little Arabella had won a special place in his heart. She tried so desperately to keep up with Stella's older girls but had been left out on more than one occasion. That had Sandor paying special attention to her.

"Pappy I was hiding in the tree," she told him, cuddling deep into his still large arms.

Sandor had full sleeves of tats now, as he'd added ink regularly over the years, finding pleasure in putting things on his body that made him happy, instead of covering up old scars and hurts. Somehow, for a man that had so much violence in his life, he'd managed to raise six children and several grandchildren that had been untouched by that darkness.

"I know that now, Bella. But I was worried about you," he told her gently. She presses a soft kiss to his cheek.

"Don't worry, Pappy, I'll always be here," she told him, making Sansa's heart melt.

She looked at the other three girls – Piper, Poppy and Penny and smiled. "So my lovelies, ready to see what samples were sent to Nana?"

The girls squealed happily as Sansa herded them back into the house. Once there, Sandor set Bella down to run after her cousins and then grabbed Sansa by the waist, taking a moment for just them.

He nuzzled into her neck, and she felt her heart hitch like it always did. This wonderful man that had given her so much.

"Have I told you today how much I love you?" he asked. He'd gotten slightly sappier as he'd aged, and Sansa adored him for it.

"Why yes, husband mine, I believe you did," she said, brushing her lips against his. "But, tell me again."

He stilled them both and drew her hands up, over his heart. "I love you so much, Sansa."

For a moment, she was transported back, to when he'd first told her those words, in their first home together, when everything had been so new. That newness was long gone, but what they'd built had been rock solid for over three decades. Her eyes welled up as she cupped his face, so dear to her.

"You've given me everything, Sandor. Everything I ever dreamed of. Thank you for loving me."

"Easiest thing in the world, little bird."

She threw her head back and laughed, and then squealed a bit as he scooped her up in his arms, cuddling close to him, feeling his strong heartbeat against her ear.

"Love you, big guy."

His answering smile was everything. They'd hit the lottery when they'd found each other, and neither one went a single day without thanking their lucky stars that they'd both come North and found each other, for now, and always, the great loves of each other's lives and just how Sansa had always pictured her fairy tale life to be. And all because of Sandor, The Hound, Clegane. 

* * *

The End

* * *


End file.
